


War at Heart

by artisticBunny



Category: Call of Duty
Genre: Call of Duty - Freeform, Canon-Typical Violence, Developing Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pre-Relationship, advanced warfare
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-27
Updated: 2017-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-17 14:00:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 27,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4669256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/artisticBunny/pseuds/artisticBunny
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The escapades of Jack Mitchell and Gideon through war.</p><p>This will follow the story of what happens in between the missions.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Number One

ATLAS HQ  
Mitchells room  
Shortly after finishing off Hades

Mitchell absently thumbed the metal seam of the socket where his prosthetic arm usually was attached. It was a late evening, and had just been maybe a day since he'd slit Hades' throat – and one of the attacks he'd recieved had rendered his prosthetic arm completely useless. He still remembers vividly from when they were in the warbird on the way back to HQ, the surges of pain from where his nerves connected to the prosthetics artificial nerves, and the uncontrollable twitching of his left hand, the synapses never quite reaching his hand right.  
He remembered how Gideon had watched his tense, pained expression twitch each time pain surged through his arm, with a look of genuine concern in his own features. Mitchell had occasionally glanced over, and the british man had looked away just as fast. Each time it put a small smile on the americans face and a light flush of color across his ghostly pale cheeks. His captain cared for him, even though he hid it under his barking of orders and grumpy expression. Mitchell knew, though – the captains true feelings always shone through his eyes, the light gray-blue orbs betraying his facade. He'd seen how Gideon looked at everyone in his team – with the utmost care and love, as if they were all brothers (with the exception of Ilona.) What he never saw, though, was how Gideon looked at Mitchell just a second longer, patted his back just a bit softer.

Mitchell had always had, in a matter of personality, a very subtle air to him. He'd always been the same, though, ever since he was a child. He was mostly silent, obedient. Never questioned orders. He wasn't at all like Joker, with his quips at Gideon during missions.  
He liked to think of himself as a good soldier.  
At several occasions, he'd been compared to a puppy. When he'd ask why, he'd get answers like ”You're easy to read” ”You're always so honest”, and his personal favourite ”Your presence can lighten up an entire room.” The last one had actually come from Gideon, but at the time, he didn't make much of it. A soft, appreciative smile, and a nod before moving on with his day.

He was awoken from his thoughts by the light rapping of a knuckle against his door, and the voice of his captain was heard ”Oi, open up, mate.” He got up from his bed before walking over, trying his best to hide the ugly end of his arm behind his back. He felt self-concious about his prosthetic arm, and when the arm itself wasn't there, the feeling multiplied by a hundred. He slowly pushed the doorhandle down and pushed the door open, and there was Gideon, just like the voice had foreshadowed. ”...Good evening, captain.”

”No need to pull the formal crap with me now, Mitchell. Let me in, will ya?” his captain mutters, and Mitchell stepped aside to let Gideon inside his small room. It didn't have much – a bed, a desk with a chair, a window, a dresser. He'd been granted a recovery period of two weeks and a room of his own to be able to rest properly, due to the heavy damage he'd taken during the quarrel with Hades. He had several cracked ribs, a bad bruise covering most of his abdomen and lower body, and some bullet bruises (he'd been reckless during the mission at one point, and taken a shot or two to the lighter parts of his armor, and even though they didn't penetrate, the blunt trauma was enough to cause major bruising). And of course, the broken arm, because Hades had stabbed a knife into it, causing irreparable damage. At least he'd shanked the bastard, finally.

He closed the door when Gideon was inside, and went over to sit back down on his bed. Gideon shortly followed, the bed dipping and creaking a little under his weight.  
”You look like shit, Mitchell.” he says suddenly, causing the younger man to scoff in amusement.  
”Yeah. Finishing Hades off had a price.”  
”So, how do you feel?”

He sighed a little, before taking off his shirt (with only a slight struggle, due to the lack of two hands.) The bruise across his toned abdomen was already turning dark blue and purple, along with irritated shades of red. The bruise, partially hidden under bandages over his lower ribs, disappeared under the hem of his pants, and the bruises from the bullets, both across his shoulder blades, was blooming like gruesome flowers from where the bullets had hit him. Add to that some cuts and scrapes, and of course, his missing arm, and you had something that definitely needed recovery time.  
”Like I look, but five times worse.” he mumbles, self-conciously covering the socket on the end of his left arm with his right hand. He didn't like anyone seeing it, least of all his captain.  
He glanced over to see Gideons disgusted expression.

”They really did a number on you. Fuck me, Mitchell, I'm sorry.” the british man muttered, and was that guilt in his eyes?  
”Why are you apologizing, Gideon? It's not exactly your fault, you had other people, other things to tend to. I was just being reckless.”  
The older man abruptly stood up, running a hand through his blond-black hair. He seemed frustrated, and Jack wondered if it was his fault. He flinched when Gideon turned back to face him.  
”But it is my fault. You're on my team, you're my responsibility. This, and all the other deaths and injuries we had today, happened on my watch.” the man snapped. Mitchell reared back, leaning back on his right hand. ”Gideon, please-”  
”You got hurt, because I didn't keep an eye on all of you. I was being absent.”  
Mitchell slowly stood up from his bed, and made his way over to the distressed captain, gingerly placing his hand on the others shoulder. ”Gideon, listen to me, will you?” he says sternly, not backing down. He remained silent until Gideon turned his eyes to him, locking his gaze on Mitchells.  
”You almost died yourself today. We lost some men today. We could've lost you too.” he begins. He knew he was hitting soft spots, seeing pain in Gideons hard expression, but he continued. ”You were stressed. You had a much bigger team to keep track of, and excess adrenaline. Noone blames you for anything that happened today. You did an amazing job, captain.” he finishes, slightly squeezing the shoulder beneath his hand. Gideon bit his lip.  
”Somehow, it hurts me the most to see you like this. I feel like I failed as a captain, as a friend. You're alive, but you're suffering. And it's my fault.”  
Mitchell sighed deeply, and pulled Gideon into an akward, one-armed hug.  
”Goddammit, captain, you're the fucking reason I'm alive.” he mumbled, before burying his face into the brit's shoulder. He could feel the other man tense up. Mitchell nervously remained still, waiting for a response. A hug back, a gentle push away, a punch, he'd take anything.

And when he felt two arms wrap around him gingerly, mindful of his injuries, he felt extremely relieved. ”Thanks, Jack.” was mumbled somewhere by his ear. That was the first time Gideon had used his first name, and it made him feel ten times lighter. He liked how it sounded with that accent he'd grown so fond of. He closed his eyes and relaxed, allowing himself to finally feel at ease.

A few minutes later, they slowly let go of each other. The private let his arms drop, and he simply gazed at the british man for a second until he felt Gideon run his hand down his left arm, his gaze following his hand.

Mitchell flinched violently, backing away, hiding the end of his left arm with his right. He fell back onto the bed, still cradling his arm. ”D-don't touch it.” he mumbled shakily, the moment they'd had a few seconds ago gone. He stared down on the floor, and pulled his legs up onto the bed. He saw Gideon move, and after a moment the bed dipped. He felt a hand on his right shoulder.

”Oi, Jack, does it hurt? Is it something wrong with it? Should we get you to a nurse?” the british man mumbled with concern. He shook his head, eyes still trained on the floor. By now he'd started shaking, and and he squeezed the top part of his left arm with his right hand, so hard that his knuckles whitened.

”Mitchell, you're crying.” he heard, the voice accompanied by a thumb gently wiping tears away from his cheeks – he hadn't noticed he'd started crying in the first place.

”... I-I just hate it.” he mumbles, unvoluntarily sniffling. ”I hate it – I hate that I need that prosthetic. I hate that I didn't do more to save Will. I shouldn't have given him the charges, I should've planted them myself. I hate myself because I'm pathetic, I'm defect and broken, I lost everything that fucking day. I hate that I'm still even alive, because I don't know if I have anything to live for outside Atlas.” he finished his rant, voice getting shakier by each word he squeezed past his lips. ”I'm broken, Gideon, and without that stupid fucking prosthetic, I'm absolutely useless!” he said, before abruptly getting up from the bed, pacing around in the room, before punching a wall with all he had. Pain exploded from his knuckles, and he figured he probably cracked something, but he couldn't bring himself to care. He simply leaned his forehead on the wall, trying to calm down, but his clenched fist and grinding teeth showed the exact opposite.  
”Hey, mate, calm down.” he heard from his side, and an arm laid around his shoulders, gently pulling at him. He turned his head toward Gideon, his eyes red-rimmed from crying, and Gideon had probably never seen anyone look so miserable. It stung in his heart to see his private like that.  
Without a word, he grabbed the taller man by the shoulders and pulled him down into a hug, one arm around his shoulders, running his other hand through the dark brown hair. Mitchell stood frozen for a moment, his arms just hanging limply along his sides. The only movement that happened was the occasional sob, before he wrapped his arm around Gideon.  
”Sorry.” he mumbled weakly, pressing his face into Gideons shoulder.  
”It's okay, Mitchell. Nothing that happened is your fault, and arm or not, you're always useful. You should trust your captain more.” he says calmly, still running his fingers through the others hair. It always used to calm him down when he himself was younger, so he just hoped it would help on Mitchell. After a few moments, he slowly detached himself from the younger man, taking a hold of his shoulders, looking deep into his eyes.  
”Get some rest, Jack. You're exhausted and you're in pain, you need to rest, recover. Soon you'll get a new arm, and I'll train you for a few days. Then you're out there again, okay? Hang in there, Jack.”  
He gave Mitchell one of his rare, softer smiles, and the private wiped his face free from tears before smiling back. ”...Yeah. Thanks, Gideon. Sorry for getting all mushy on ya.”  
”No problem. Now go the fuck to bed, I'll see you tomorrow. Don't miss breakfast.” his captain said as he moved towards the door.  
”Wouldn't dream of it.” Mitchell responded, watching the door close. He just stood there and smiled for a moment, before pulling his shirt back on and getting into bed. He already felt better about the whole situation, and with a small smile on his face, he fell asleep.


	2. Number Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell can't sleep.

ATLAS HQ  
Mitchells room  
Too early in the morning

 

”Will, don't say that, Will, no, let me help, Will--”

Mitchell woke up shouting, sitting straight up in his bed. Another nightmare. About that day, as usual. His whole body was hurting, his pain medication not doing it's magic anymore, and he was drenched in coldsweat. He was at the verge of hyperventilating, but managed to calm himself down slightly.

According to the tablet on the bedside table, it was 4:23 AM, way too early to be up. Even for the ones with missions in the morning. He picked up the tablet with his right hand, and decided to log in to the system, see what was happening. He probably wouldn't be able to go back to sleep for a while, anyway, with the adrenaline from his nightmare still pumping.

After a few moments of scrolling through news and mission statuses, his tablet made a popping sound, along with a picture of Joker in the right corner, signaling a message.

_Joker [4:27:34]: hey man, u ok? u shouldn't be up this early, ur recovering_

_Mitchell [4:28:04]: I'm fine, Joker. Just another nightmare. The usual._

_Joker [4:28:47]: i can call gideon 4 u if u want_

Mitchell looked up from his tablet a moment. Gideon. The memories from last night came flooding into his mind. He'd never experienced Gideon being so gentle and nice with him – or with anyone. It was a huge change of character. He knew the man cared, but he wasn't ever... soft like that.

Not that he was complaining. He liked the feeling of being appreciated. Of someone treating him gently.

He turned back to the tablet.

_Joker [4:32:07]: mitch?_

_Mitchell [4:33:10]: Nah, let him sleep. He's had a rough week. Get some rest yourself, aren't you on mission this morning?_

_Joker [4:34:02]: thanks 4 reminding me, ass. maybe i should get some more sleep while i have the chance_

_Joker [4:34:13]: will u be ok?_

_Mitchell [4:36:01]: I'll be fine, go the fuck to bed already!_

He closed the chatlink with Joker after that, a slightly amused smile on his face. He put the tablet down onto his fluffy covers, leaning back against the wall behind him. He wondered what he would do now – he didn't feel like going back to sleep anymore. His nightmares would haunt him again.

He was just about to log out from the system and try to sleep despite his impending nightmares, when his tablet popped again with another message. But it wasn't from Joker this time.

_Gideon [4:45:56]: What the fuck are you doing on the system, Mitchell? You should be sleeping._

His heart skipped a beat. He had never gotten a message from Gideon before. During his years in Atlas and under Gideon’s command, the older man preferred to take everything face to face. But because of some stupid reason, the recovery quarters was in the entirely different part of the building than the normal quarters. Mitchell could understand him though, it was after all early in the morning and he sure wouldn't want to cross the entire lodging building.

_Mitchell [4:47:33]: Nightmares. Medication wore off. Couldn't go back to sleep._

_Gideon [4:47:58]: Are you okay, mate?_

_Mitchell [4:48:13]: Yeah, I'm fine. No need to worry._

Mitchell waited for Gideons response, but he didn't get one. The chatlink hadn't been closed, though. Had the brit fallen asleep?

_Mitchell [4:54:37]: You there, Gideon?_

_Mitchell [4:57:53]: Gideon?_

He was staring at the screen, confused, before he heard a rapping against his door.

“Open the fucking door, Mitchell.” he heard from the other side, his captain’s voice grumpy.  
Jack sighed dramatically, slowly getting out of bed. Moving hurt a lot more now that he didn’t have any painkillers circulating anymore.  
“What the fuck are you doing here, Gideon, I can’t believe you actually crossed the entire building.” he said, confused, as he went over to open the door. Behind the door was indeed Gideon, his expression an unreadable mix of concern and mild annoyance, and Mitchell wasn’t quite sure what was taking the advantage over Gideon’s mood. It was a bad mood, that was for sure.

“Was it about Will?” was the first words across his captains lips as he crossed the threshold into the room. Mitchell cursed under his breath, how could Gideon read him so easily? The only other person who’d ever known Mitchell that well was Will. (Ilona came close, but she was good at reading everyone.)  
“...Yeah. It was. That entire mission just keeps playing over and over in my head, but no matter what I do, it ends the same way… And I always wake up just as... just as it ex… explodes.” he mumbled, his voice getting softer and more unstable the more he spoke.   
Just as he was about to continue, Gideon shushed him.  
“It’s okay, Jack. You don’t have to talk about it.” he said softly, the grumpy undertone in his voice gone. Somewhere in the back of his mind he found it amusing, hearing Gideon so unlike his usual self, seeing him soften like that. But he didn’t smile, didn’t comment it, he just sighed.  
“...Thanks, Gideon. It’s just hard to think about.” he mumbled, his voice a bit steadier now, his right hand drifting to the end of the remains of his left arm. His constant reminder of how badly he’d messed up that day. He looked down to his feet, not looking up until he felt Gideon move a stray lock of his curly, dark hair from his forehead, and he glanced up.  
With a gentle grip around Mitchell’s shoulders, Gideon turned the younger man around and gently pushed him toward the bed, and Mitchell followed along when the british man sat down on the bed.

“You need to rest, Mitchell. Not only are you hurt, but you’re working yourself too hard.” he said in a soft tone, but his words didn’t allow any objection. And in the back of his mind, Mitchell knew Gideon was right. He hated feeling useless, passive, and in turn, pushed himself too far on missions. He was rarely hurt and he never pushed himself far enough to collapse or hurt himself, but he was always absolutely exhausted when missions were finished. He didn’t speak during missions, never asked for help, just acknowledged orders or requests for assistance, but never requested anything himself. He told himself he didn’t need it.

Deep down he knew that it was only for what happened when he was in the marines, and he thought he could control himself well enough to not endanger himself or others. But no matter how hard he tried, his own inferiority complex seeped into his work.

Gideon had seen that Mitchell was like that after his very first mission, when they were rescuing the prime minister of Nigeria. He’d seen how Mitchell had followed orders perfectly, but had never once requested help. Not even when he got swarmed by four KVA units and two dogs during that same mission, he’d barely made it through by himself. Gideon hated that Mitchell was so silent - the man had gotten hit and slammed into a wall by a fucking car, but didn’t make more noise than a gasp. Gideon could never hear how hurt MItchell was - and it was driving him mad during missions.

Gideon shifted so that he sat closer to the head end of the bed, and he leaned his back to the wall the bed was up against. He grabbed the pillow and put it behind his back, before patting his lap once.

It took a moment before Mitchell caught on, but when he did, he blushed heavily (hoping the dim lighting of the room hid it). Then he slowly grabbed his covers, wrapped them around himself, before laying down, his head resting on Gideons lap. He felt fingers starting to soothingly comb through his hair.

"...You're getting soft, captain." he mumbled, his eyes already falling closed.   
"Just go to fucking sleep already, Jack." his captain mumbled, obviously embarrassed by the whole situation. "Don't tell anyone about this, or I'll make you run the simulator for 24 hours."  
"Roger that..." Mitchell mumbled sleepily, before he fell asleep again.

 

*******************

The next time Mitchell woke up, it wasn't due to a nightmare. He woke up to the loud beeping of his tablet, signaling that it was about half an hour until the later breakfast session. He was about to sit up when he realized Gideon was still there, and he turned slightly to look up at him, surprised when the man looked back at him. " 'Morning.", Gideon greeted him, and Jack sat up and yawned. According to the tablet and the sun seeping in behind the blinds, it was 06.30 AM. And those measly 90 minutes of sleep was probably the best sleep he'd ever had. He hadn't felt this rested in weeks.

"You didn't have any nightmares this time." said Gideon, standing up from the bed to stretch, while Mitchell reached over to shut off the alarm, but he stayed on the bed. "Did you sleep?" he mumbled, yawning again and rubbing at his eyes.

"Nah. Wasn't tired, anyway. Wanted to be able to wake you up if you had another nightmare." Gideon said with a shrug.

Mitchell almost objected, but he knew that Gideon didn't need much sleep, anyway. And Gideon had always woken him up in the past whenever he had a nightmare. Gideon had swapped bunks with Joker, just so that he could have the bottom bunk opposite to Mitchell, to keep an eye on him if he had nightmares. He had seen first hand how nightmares could ruin a soldier - he didn’t want to see it happen to Mitchell, too. Maybe that was when he’d first started to look after Mitchell a little extra.

But it wasn’t like he fancied Mitchell in any way, no way, he was just a captain who cared about his subordinates-- oh, who was he kidding. He knew there was something extra in the way he felt about Jack - he didn’t know what, or if he was even _ready_ to know.

“Gideon.” he heard Mitchell say, snapping him out of his train of thought. As he turned back, he saw the other man slowly getting up from his bed, clutching his abdomen. Gideon was immediately by Mitchells side, steadying him.  
“Are you okay, Jack?” he said, concern seeping into his tone. He remembered that Jack had mentioned his medication wearing off, and figured he was in pretty severe pain. “Should we go to the medical wing?”  
“Yeah. I just need to get my boots on.” mumbled Mitchell, making his way over to his door, doing his best to move as usual as he bent down to tie his boots onto his feet. Gideon got his own boots on faster than Mitchell did, and was at the ready to help him. “Ready?” he mumbled when the younger man straightened up, and with a nod, Mitchell opened the door and the two started walking painfully slow to the medical wing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, chapter two!
> 
> I had to cut it off there to keep it just around 2 000 words, as I don't want my chapters to be longer than that. Cliffhangers, oooh!
> 
> I'll keep throwing up chapters as often as possible, it all depends on how stressful school is, and how my writers block is coming along.
> 
> Kudos and feedback is always appreciated!
> 
> Peace! <3


	3. Number Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Goddamn silent people.
> 
> Also rainstorms.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Having trouble with the note system right now. (All of them are just piling up at the end of the latest chapter.)  
> Gonna try to put them up here instead!
> 
> This will be where the relationship starts really kicking off - mostly by Mitchell saying things he should(n't) have ;)
> 
> Also, from now on, the type of room Mitchell is staying in will now be referred to as Recovery Quarters, shortened RQ.
> 
> Enjoy!

ATLAS HQ  
Canteen  
About 7.15 PM

About 45 minutes later and they had successfully survived through a too-long session in the medical wing, Mitchell and Gideon finally reached the Atlas canteen, where all on-base meals were served. To be fair, Mitchell hated the place – it was always way too crowded, even if it was big enough to fit literally everyone working in the facility with room to spare. But hey, it had food, and if there was food, he'd deal with anything.

Said and done and with food as his top priority, now that he was pumped full of painkillers and the aches in his body finally starting to subside, he went up to the counter and got his breakfast. He didn't really eat a lot in the morning, so on his tray was simply a cup of tea (he didn't like coffee), a piece of toast, and an apple. Balancing his tray on his right hand and forearm, he found them an empty table, and when Gideon joined him on the opposite side of the table, Mitchell giggled at the contrast between their plates. While his own breakfast was simple, trust the british man to get himself the closest thing to a proper English Breakfast he could get. His plate was pretty much overfilled with scrambled eggs, beans, toast, bacon, you name it. His laughter earned him a glare from the older man.  
”What are you laughing at, Mitchell?” he muttered, already starting to eat, while Jack was trying to calm down.  
”Sorry, sorry. Just the contrast between our breakfast choices.” he said, an amused tone still evident in his voice.  
”I still think you don't eat enough.”  
”I know you do, but I still get by, right?” he says with a smile, before sipping at his tea.

Mitchell really liked mornings. It was the one quiet moment he had, often shared with the rest of his squad. Even Joker was quiet during the mornings, contrasting his usual demeanor. Probably because the rest of their day would be filled with noise of all intentions and sources, they liked the silence of morning before jumping into their gear and heading off into their next mission.

Today he didn't have a mission, and by the looks of it, Gideon didn't have one either. He knew that both Ilona and Joker were off already.  
”Hey Gideon, how come you're not on mission today?” he mumbled in between bites of his toast. Gideon hummed a bit as if to tell him to hold up a moment, since his mouth was full, but eventually he answered.  
”Took a week off. Irons has been nagging me about 'unused days off', so I decided to use those days now. Joker and Ilona jumped onto some other team for the week.” he said, shrugging before continuing to eat. Mitchell nodded silently, nibbling on his toast, his eyes trained on Gideon. After a while, he spoke up with a smirk, leaning forward across the table.

“...Not at all to look after me, was it?” he said, his voice dripping with amused sarcasm, just loud enough for only Gideon to hear, and he reared back to amusedly watch the man choke on his coffee, sputtering. _Nailed it._  
“The simulator threat- still stands-” Gideon choked out between coughs, and Mitchell started to giggle. When the older man finally stopped coughing, Mitchell smiled a little and picked up his teacup from the tray.  
“The biggest perk with being silent most of the time - you learn to read people pretty damn well.” he mumbled before sipping at his tea again. Gideon was glaring daggers at him, but he didn’t meet the other man’s gaze.  
“When you’ve recovered, I’ll kick your ass.”  
“Try it, old man.”

 

************************

 

After breakfast, Mitchell had gone back to his room, while Gideon had to check up on some new recruits (it was, of course, met by refusal, but there was noone else of his status on base), so Mitchell spent the next three hours laying on his bed with his tablet. He felt extremely lazy, but it wasn't like he could do much at the moment. The medical personnel would probably never let him hear the end of it if he moved around too much (even if the only thing he wanted to do was to go out in the field again and actually be _useful_. 

Around 11 pm he had enough of just lying around, so he got back up, tied his boots on, and left the room. Not having a real goal, he decided to go outside - he could use some fresh air.

Outside he was welcomed by the familiar sound and buzz of the Atlas campus. Warbirds flying in and out, weapons or AST's being tested, the buzz and sounds of the simulation arena. Personnel running around and shouting at each other, jeeps, vans and tanks driving around. While this would be disturbing noise to anyone else, for a soldier like Mitchell, all the different sounds and noises blended into a kind of melody, the sounds that gave the entire campus _life_.  


He wouldn't trade it for anything.

As he walked around campus, trying to find a quieter spot, he watched new recruits practicing with their exos for the first time (the assault exo was always the hardest to learn - if you didn't know properly how to use it, the boost jump tech could go off at random times and you'd go flying like a ragdoll).

There was a few people like him there - people who'd been in the marines before they joined Atlas. He had spoken to a few of them, but their reasons was often about money - not at all a second chance like Mitchell. None of them had lost a limb - or a friend.

He finally found the spot he looked for, the one resting area outside that had grass, and even a couple of trees. He chose the largest tree, just wide enough for him to be able to lean his entire back against it, and sat down in the shade. It was a sunny, warm day, and it honestly made him a little bit happy that he got to be free on a day like this. He finally had a chance to relax.

He sat there for about half an hour before he noticed the sky starting to darken with heavy clouds. Not thinking much of it, seeing as there had been some mildly fluctuating weather lately, he remained still against the tree.

But a few minutes later, he heard the rumbling of thunder far away, and when he inched out from under the tree crown to look up...

It was as if the sky just opened up, and heavy rain started pouring down.

As he started walking (because god forbid he ran, the nurses would probably put him up for public humiliation) toward the lodging building again, he made himself a mental note to never underestimate dark clouds.

After the about ten minute long walk it took him to finally get inside, he was completely drenched, his hair flat and sticking to his face, looking like a miserable puppy after a bath. Add to that, he was really fucking cold.

Pulling his hair back from his face, he started to walk back to his room to get changed, though he didn't clear a particularly long distance before he heard his captains voice shouting at him.

"Oi, Mitchell!"

The voice was accompanied by hurried footsteps, and suddenly his captain came up beside him.  
"H-hey, Gid." Mitchell mumbled with a small smile, stuttering slightly due to being cold. He was met by a bothered frown.  
"Jesus, mate, were you out in the rain? How stupid can you be? You're already trying to recover from being hurt, the last thing you need is catching a cold." the british man muttered, grabbing his arm and starting to pull him along in the same direction Mitchell was already going.  
"In my d-defense, it was s-sunny when I went o-outside."  
"I don't care, you were out in the rain and we need to dry you off and get you some dry clothes. What do you have in your RQ*?" Gideon muttered, not making eye contact.  
"J-just some standard sets of T-shirts and sweatpants, and u-underwear and stuff."  
"No warm clothes or anything?"  
"Not as far as I could see."  
Gideon stopped, pulling his beanie off his head, and shoving it over Mitchells hair while groaning in frustration.  
"Go and dry off and get changed into what you have, I'll get you a sweater in our room." he says sternly, turning to walk in the other direction. "See you in ten minutes." he calls over his shoulder, and Mitchell smiles and walks to his room, shaking from the cold.

Ten minutes later and with Mitchell dressed in a new, dry set of sweatpants and T-shirt and his hair dried with a towel (and also still wearing Gideon’s beanie), Gideon came knocking on the door, just as promised. As soon as Mitchell opened the door, Gideon flung a sweater in his face.  
“Put it on. If you get sick, it’s on my watch, and I will not have a sick man on my squad.” he mutters, walking over to sit down on Mitchells bed, while the younger man struggled to get his sweater on. (It was dark blue and oversized even for him - and Mitchell wasn’t exactly small), and eventually he got it on properly, the left sleeve hanging freely from halfway down his arm. It made him feel a little bit uncomfortable, but instead of thinking of it too much, he went and sat down on his bed, beside Gideon.

“So… how did the recruits do?” he asked, just to get a conversation going. He was usually fine with silence, but with Gideon, it just felt… awkward. He felt like he needed to speak about something.  
“They’re absolutely fucking useless, that’s what they are.” the Brit exclaims, running a hand through his hair, sighing frustatedly.  
“Exo training?”  
“Assault. Literally all of them were flung around because they didn’t even try to control it. Or not killing their boosters when I told them to. Wankers.”  
“I hope you didn’t scare them all away.” said Mitchell with an amused chuckle. He knew exactly how Gideon was to new recruits - he was scary as shit, not sugarcoating anything.  
“I’m not fucking scary, Mitchell. I didn’t scare you away, did I?” he turned to face Jack, a slight look of betrayal on his face. Mitchell had to think about his answer for a bit.  
"No, but I came from the Marines. I was already familiar with it, but these guys are brand new."

It took a while before Gideon answered again.  
"Do you think I'm too hard on them, Mitchell?"  
"...Nah. They still need to understand that it's the real deal. Just don't give them panic attacks or something like that. Panic attacks are a bitch." he mumbles.

Instead of thinking about the fair share of panic attacks he'd experienced during his first weeks at Atlas (mostly during physical therapy for his prosthetic and for Will), he grabbed his covers again and wrapped them around himself as best as he could. Even with the sweater, he still felt cold, and he burrowed deep into them, closing his eyes.

"I want my beanie back." he heard Gideon mutter beside him, causing Mitchell to chuckle.  
"You were the one who put it on my head. The beanie stays until I'm warm." he mumbles cheekily in response. With that said, he wrapped the covers tighter around himself.  
"Besides, you look better without it." he says before he can stop it. Where the hell did that thought come from? That wasn't something he would say, was it?

He hadn't ever acknowledged it, but Gideon _did_ look good (he almost added 'for his age' before he remembered that Gideon was only a year or so older than him). For the moment, he decided the best solution was to hide his face (and blush) in his covers and hoping that Gideon didn't hear what he said.

But as luck would have it, Gideon _did_.

“Oh, do I now, Jack?” he said teasingly, lightly punching the private on the shoulder. But in reality, he felt butterflies in his stomach (each one of which he wanted to kill) over the fact that Mitchell found him (somewhat) attractive.

But yeah, Mitchell didn't need to know that, now, did he?

“Can we pretend that never happened?” he heard Mitchell say, embarrassed, his voice muffled by the comforter in his face.  
“Nope, it most definetely happened.”  
“God damn it.”

Gideon got up from the bed with a laugh, moving towards the door to leave the room.

“Do you need anything?” he calls over his shoulder, the teasing tone still evident in his voice.

“Just let me keep the fucking beanie and leave me alone.”

“Will do.”


	4. Number Four

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell finally gets his new arm.
> 
> Also, awkwardness ensues.

ATLAS HQ  
R&D waiting room  
About 3 PM

A few days passed since the rainstorm hit, and for Mitchell, the days had been a flurry of visits to the medical wing, Gideon helping him sleep or talking to him over the system chat after nightmares, and seeing him briefly during meals. Since he’d only taken days off from field missions, Gideon still had work to do, while Mitchell was completely relieved of his duties until he was well enough to go back on the field.

This morning he’d gotten an e-mail from R&D, saying that they finally had a new arm ready for him. It was a shame that he’d gotten a knife through his old one - he’d finally gotten used to it. But he’d rather get knifed through the mechanical, replacable arm than his face.

So now he sat in the waiting room, waiting to be taken in for surgery. It wouldn’t be as hard to get the arm in place this time, but it did include some nerve connecting this time around too, so he was going to be under an anesthetic during the entire process. Even if he wouldn’t feel anything, he hated the process. After the surgery, he’d have to struggle with getting used to the damn thing. That included glitching, calibration issues, synchronization problems.

In all honesty, the time where he’d just gotten the prosthetic on was almost worse and more frustrating than the time before it.

He’d messaged Gideon that he’d be going into surgery this afternoon, but he still hadn’t gotten an answer from the other man. It was only half an hour left, now, and he wanted to talk to Gideon beforehand.

And as if reading his thoughts, a very out of breath Gideon burst through the doors of the waiting room. Mitchell immediately stood up from the bench.

“Hey, hey, why so out of breath?” he asked as he walked over to the older man, rubbing his hand along his back. “Did you run here?”  
“No, I danced my way here. Yes, I ran, Captain Obvious."  
Gideons tone was rough in between sharp breaths, and he was doubling over with his hands on his knees.  
"Jesus, Gideon, you didn't have to run. It's still like half an hour left..." he mumbles, continuing to rub Gideons back until the man straightened up.  
“Fuck off, Mitchell. I wanted to have time to talk to you before surgery, I figured you’d be scared shitless.” Gideon said, already back to his teasing tone, elbowing Mitchell in the side.  
“Oh, as if, Gid. I’ve done it before.” Mitchell responded, and Gideon frowned.  
“I fucking told you about the nickname, Mitchell. Off. Bounds.” the british man said, tone sharp and words clipped.  
Mitchell sighed and sat down, Gideon following suit and sitting down next to him.

They say quiet together for a while.

“...I actually am pretty nervous.” Jack finally mumbles, his right hand fidgeting with the pockets of the cargo pants he was wearing. It seemed to make Gideon soften a bit, as he felt the other man wrap an arm around his shoulders. Mitchell looked up at him, his ocean blue eyes connecting with Gideon’s gray.  
“You’ll be fine, Jack. As you said, you’ve done it before - and now you know how to deal with it.” he says, squeezing Mitchells shoulders. It wasn’t much, just a friendly encouragement, but when it came from Gideon, it felt deeper. He felt his cheeks heat up as he still stared into Gideon’s eyes, and he looked away with a small smile.  
“Thank you.” he mumbled, looking down at his knees again.

“Excuse me, Private Jack Mitchell?”

He tore his gaze from his knees and looked up at the friendly faced woman who came through the door.  
“U-um, yeah, that’s me?” he mumbles, raising his hand. The lady started to smile softly.  
“We’re waiting for you. You can come in when you’re ready.” she says, before going back, closing the door behind her. And with that, Mitchell and Gideon were alone again, and Mitchell felt more nervous now than ever. And it seemed like it translated onto his face and body language, because Gideon pulled him into a hug, Mitchells head resting against.  
“You’ll be okay, I promise. I’ll be there first thing when you wake up again. You’re a tough kid.” Gideon mumbled into his hair, and it was oddly comforting - but at the same time, it was frustrating. Why was he feeling so conflicted about Gideon?

Why did one half of him want to stay friends with him, while the other only wanted to kiss him?

Mitchell shook off what he felt and hugged Gideon back, before they simultaneously broke the hug and Mitchell stood up.  
“I guess I’d better go. Can’t keep ‘em waiting forever.” he says, looking into Gideon’s eyes with a small smile, and he got a smile in return.  
“See you in a couple of hours.” the captain mumbled, patting Mitchells shoulder, before Mitchell turned to walk through the door that the nurse had come from, leaving Gideon alone in the waiting room.

************************

Three hours and 32 minutes later, a doctor came out, taking his mask off. He didn’t notice Gideon until the man had walked up to him.  
“How’s Mitchell?” the british man mumbled anxiously. The doctor looked him over for a moment, before responding with a smile.  
“The surgery was a success, and Mitchell will be fine. He’s still sleeping, but he should probably wake up within the next 15 minutes or so, if we calculated it properly. You can visit him right away, he’ll be in room 6b in Post-Op.”  
“Thank you, doc. See ya.” Gideon said over his shoulder as he started walking in the direction of Mitchells room.  
“I hope not, Captain!” he heard the doctor call behind him, and Gideon chuckled.

As promised, about 13 minutes later(to be exact, 12 minutes and 49 seconds, but Gideon would never admit he counted), Mitchell opened his eyes, confusedly looking around. He felt heavy and slow and it felt as if everything was in slow motion, and he blinked a few times. He hated waking up after surgery, feeling so sluggish and behind.  
"Hey there." he heard beside him, and as he turned his head towards the voice, to see Gideon pull up a chair next to his bed. Mitchell started to smile softly, opening his eyes a little bit more.  
"Hey, Gid..." he mumbled, not noticing the slip of the nickname in the slowly clearing haze of the anesthetic still clouding his mind. And it seemed Gideon realized this, because he didn't reprimand him.  
"That new arm looks smashing, mate." he said, moving the sheets slightly so Mitchell could see it. It looked almost identical to his old one, the only thing different being the metallic details around the wrist and knuckles. "Oh yay, another hunk of metal and plastic to get used to." Mitchell mumbled unenthusiastically, seeing if he could move it yet. As he tried, he saw the fingers and wrist twitch slightly in the direction he tried to move them in, but far from actually moving. This thing would need a lot of calibration.  
He sighs heavily.  
"Please tell me I can get out of here, like, soon? Tonight?" he whined, looking at Gideon with puppy-like eyes. The other man sighed.  
"They want to calibrate the arm right away, so that you can start using it as soon as possible. They should be here any minute, but when that's done, they told me to help you back to your quarters. And they checked you up with your previous injuries." he took a break in talking, leaving Mitchell staring inquiringly at him.  
"You're healing up nicely. That's why they told me to bring you out to the shooting range tomorrow. You're going back into action." he finished with a smile at the younger man, who smiled back with relief.  
"You won't be going into the field for _at least_ another two weeks, though. To make sure your arm won't act up, and that you won't agitate an injury." Gideon continued, looking up at the ceiling.  
Mitchell couldn't help but continue smiling. He’d finally be able to do something other than being lazy in his room.  
Before he could say anything, two doctors from R &D entered. They asked how he felt, if he could move his arm, if he felt anything out of the ordinary - the usual questions. Getting the good responses they wanted, they told Mitchell to get dressed and move on to get his arm calibrated when he felt like he was ready. The clothes Mitchell had worn before he went into surgery were neatly folded at the bottom of his bed, by his feet.

He pushed himself to sit upright, feeling his left arm being a lot weaker than usual. He couldn't wait for them to calibrate the stupid thing so that he could get out of there. He slowly swung his legs over the edge of the bed, the same side as Gideon was on.  
"Easy there, Mitchell, the anesthetics could still be in effect." he heard the older man warn him. He stood up regardless, finding that Gideon was right when he got hit by dizziness, and his legs almost gave out underneath him as he stumbled. Fast as lightning, Gideon had stood up, grabbed him by the shoulders, and guided him back down to sit on the edge of the bed. When Mitchell looked up, he saw his captain look at him with an _I told you so_ look on his face.  
Before Gideon actually said something, Mitchell slowly stood up again, without help, and when he managed to stand up without getting dizzy he grabbed his clothes and went to the bathroom connected to his post-op room (he didn't have any IV's or anything, they'd taken them out prior.) Gideon was left by the bedside just watching the other man close the door behind him.

15 minutes later (yes, 15 whole minutes, try it yourself getting dressed with a newly connected, uncalibrated prosthetic arm) Mitchell came out again. He'd washed his face and gotten his hair out of his face and brushed back like always, and was dressed in the cargo pants and Atlas logo T-shirt he'd worn before the surgery. Without a word he stepped into his boots, tied them, before turning to Gideon and holding his real hand out to him.  
"Need a hand, old man? We're going." he said, a mildly cheeky smile on his face.  
"Oh, I don't think I do, private." Gideon answered, his tone and smile matching Mitchells, and as he got up he grabbed Mitchells hand and pulled at it, making the younger man lose his balance. What he didn't calculate happening was Mitchell tumbling into Gideon, which was exactly what happened. The tall man now leaned heavily on Gideon, the only support for his weight being his hands on Gideons shoulders, and Gideons arms tightly around his waist.

It was only now that he realized how strong Gideon really was - of course he had known that the best hand to hand fighter of Atlas and one of Irons' closest men had to be strong. But he never thought about just how strong, not until now, when Gideon effortlessly held up Mitchells weight, his gaze locked with Mitchells.

"... Sorry, mate, you alright?" Gideon mumbled, his voice low, and with something Mitchell couldn't place, but made his heart skip a beat and his cheeks start to heat up.

"Y-yeah." he mumbled back, not tearing his gaze away from Gideons eyes, and still not moving a muscle.

Gideon felt himself starting to crumble.  
Not thinking about what he was doing, he leaned his forehead against Mitchells, one of his hands removing itself from Mitchells waist to come up and gently cup the side of Mitchells face, his thumb lightly running across Mitchells cheekbone. In response, the private leaned into the touch. 

Gideon had been leaning in closer, their lips almost brushing against each other, when they heard the nurse outside.  
"Private Mitchell? Is everything alright?" she said before peeking inside, and they instantly let go of and turned away from each other.  
"Yeah, we're fine." Mitchell said, his voice cracking slightly. He felt utterly embarrassed and confused. What the _hell_ had just happened? Had he just almost kissed Gideon?

He was sure he wasn't gay. He'd had his fair share of girlfriends. Was he bi?  
He'd never experienced anything remotely close to attraction to any man before. Why was Gideon so special?  
Still, as confused as he was, he felt surprisingly okay with almost kissing Gideon. He was wondering, how would it be like to actually kiss him? (Great, now he was mildly angry at the nurse.)

Meanwhile, Gideon had similar thoughts. Bloody nurse. He'd been dangerously close to actually kiss Mitchell, and while he'd been with blokes before, it was different from what he felt with Mitchell. While the men in the past were only for company for a night, with Mitchell, he felt like he needed to protect him, keep him close. He had to face it sooner or later - he loved Mitchell.  
He chose later.

"Come on, Mitchell. Let's get that arm calibrated." he said, pushing Mitchell in the direction of the door, not looking him in the eyes.  
"I'll wait outside." he muttered before Mitchell went inside the examination room, leaving Gideon by himself to think over what the hell he was getting himself into.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter fouuuuuuur!
> 
> Hella lotsa feelings in this one. When will they finally smooch?
> 
> Stay tuned!
> 
> Also, feedback is greatly appreciated, so please comment if I fucked up (or just leave a comment!)
> 
> Lova y'all!
> 
> Peace! <3


	5. Number Five

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Run, child. Run and stay alive.

ATLAS HQ  
Lobby  
4.30 PM

Two days later, reporters arrived to the Atlas HQ in New Baghdad. Gideon hadn't spoken to him at all since the incident in that post-op room. Mitchell understood why (he himself felt extremely awkward about the whole ordeal, still), but it still made his heart hurt a little.

He had desperately tried to forget the day in Santorini, but this morning Irons had told him to be present at the TV interview for 'being the hero who ended Hades life'. Gideon would also be there for being the captain responsible. They'd just stand there, to keep an extra eye on Irons and the reporter. And to be pretty, of course.

So now he was standing there, fully suited up in more formal and proper combat clothes under the exo, and Gideon by his side. The air between them was tense and silent, and just as Mitchell was about to speak, the sliding doors to their left opened up and Irons and the reporter came into sight. Mitchell tensed up and stretched out to his full height, his expression similar to how he used to be during actual missions.

Irons went past as he and the reporter, Wendy, were speaking, slapping Mitchells shoulder in an approving way and the private nodded back in response, his expression only softening slightly. Gideon, however, nodded too with a small smile. Irons went into the elevator with a remark about politics (Mitchell almost laughed at it) and as soon as the elevator doors closed, he relaxed and leaned back against the wall.

 

He suddenly felt another, harder slap against his shoulder, and as he looked over, Gideon was smiling at him. (He looked so proud, the bastard. Mitchell was weak for that look.)  
"How does it feel to be the hero of the world? Don’t let it go to your-” the captain started, before he was interrupted by Ilona on the comms. She told them to meet her down in one of the Maintenance rooms, and Mitchell wondered why.  
“Alright, we’re moving.” Gideon said into the comms, before turning to Mitchell. “Let’s find out what the hell she wants.”  
“Copy.” Mitchell said, following Gideon as he started walking, and he found his mind being overflowing with stray thoughts. Was it okay between them now? Had Gideon decided to ignore it all? And what would he do with his all jumbled up feelings if that’s what Gideon had done?  
Mitchell tuned out of his thoughts when he realized Gideon was talking to him.  
"The world, my friend, is running out of bad guys. You might be looking at an early retirement."  
"Heh. Yeah, maybe I am..." Mitchell mumbled in response, and Gideon seemed to notice the sudden drop in his mood.  
"You alright, mate?" Gideon said, stopping. There were only the two of them around, noone would hear them here.  
"Yeah, I'm fine."  
"You don't look fine. Hero talk too much for you?"  
Mitchell swallowed nervously before speaking.  
"Are we going to talk about what happened the other day?" he said, locking his eyes with Gideons. The captain looked slightly startled at Mitchells sudden question. Mitchell continued to stare until the older man sighed.  
"Yeah, I suppose we are. But we can't go deep about it right now, but hear this - you've done nothing wrong. I'm not angry and I don't regret it. We'll talk more about it after we meet with Ilona, alright?" Gideon said, running a hand through Mitchells hair briefly. Mitchell responded with a small nod and smile, before they went to see Ilona.

*************************

Next thing he knew, he was running. Mitchell ran, Ilona running along.

He ran, fired, advanced faster than he thought he could. His body ached and he could feel still not fully healed injuries reopening as he pushed himself to his very limit. 

Irons had used the KVA attacks to profit. He'd used them. Irons had betrayed everything Mitchell had wanted out of Atlas.

But was hurt the most was that Gideon was still at Atlas, the final look he’d given Mitchell burned into his mind. That was the first time Mitchell couldn’t read Gideon’s expression. He just looked… dead.

The entire escape from Atlas felt routine. He didn’t think about a single thing he did. He just ran, followed orders from Ilona and the mystery commander who apparently hacked into their exos, and he was stuck in that state of emotional indifference until he suddenly was on the roof, seeing his old commander in front of him, and then suddenly, he heard “Warbird!” and none other than Gideon and Joker jumped down from it in front of him.  
“Gide-” he choked out, but interrupted himself when Gideon started talking to Ilona.  
“If you’re wrong about Irons, I’ll hunt you down myself.” he said, getting right up into Ilonas face.  
“I’m not wrong.” she responded, not letting herself get fazed by Gideon.

Mitchell, however, felt himself slowly breaking apart, and when Gideon gave him a second glance, he looked away. He didn’t see the way Gideon flinched, before reporting that the roof was clear. Mitchell turned and walked into the cart, right after Ilona, and he saw Gideon and Joker leave as the doors closed behind him.

Once the initial adrenaline shock still pumping through him subsided, the physical and emotional pain as well as exhaustion that hit him caused him to collapse on the spot, the sound of Ilona and Cormack worriedly calling his name fading as he hit the floor.

********************

When Mitchell came to, the first thing he noticed was motor sounds of a helicopter. It made him wonder why he was there, lying on the floor of a helicopter. Had he been hurt in battle?  
When he opened his eyes, Ilona and Cormack were immediately in his line of sight. Wait… if Cormack was here--  
The memories of running from Atlas flowed into his mind. He remembered Gideon’s glances at him. His head spun a little with the realization that he had ran away from the one thing he really fought for. He wanted to close his eyes again.  
“Mitchell, can you hear me?” he heard Ilona say to him, fingers running through his hair. He turned his head to her slightly, and nodded. He couldn’t bring himself to utter any words. The russian woman smiled.  
“Good. I was so worried when you just passed out like that.” she says, her hand removing itself from his hair. “Can you sit up for me?”  
He nodded again, this time mumbling a quiet “yeah” before slowly pushing himself to sit upright. Cormack had moved aside a little to give him space.  
“Mitchell, what happened?” Cormack said, placing a hand on his shoulder.  
“... I was hurt beforehand. I guess I just agitated something.” he mumbled weakly, leaving out the part with his heart feeling like it was crumbling apart and blowing away in the wind. It seemed like Ilona noticed, but she didn’t say anything.  
“We’ll get you checked up when we get to base. You’ll be fine, Mitchell.” she said, and Cormack nodded.  
“She’s right. On base, you’ll get all the information about what’s going to happen.” Cormack joined in.  
“...Thank you.” he mumbled, his voice cracking, but he smiled a little to let them know he was okay. His whole body hurt, but he’d be okay.

The pilot announced they’d soon land at the base, and he recognised the location coordinates as somewhere in America. And they’d flown all the way from New Baghdad? Wow, he must’ve been out for quite a while. But maybe that was for the best - he wouldn’t have been much of use in his numb state anyway.  
“Sorry for worrying you guys. I guess I was kind of overwhelmed.” he said, running his prosthetic hand through his hair. Thank god they’d been able to calibrate his arm perfectly, with some luck, it wouldn’t glitch at all.  
“It’s okay, Mitchell. We understand.” Ilona said, patting his shoulder before getting up from the floor, sitting down in a seat. Cormack helped Mitchell to get up to his feet. As soon as he knew he wouldn’t pass out again or fall on his ass, he stretched, before slowly sitting down in the seat next to Ilonas.  
“What if we made the wrong choice, Ilona?” he mumbles, staring at his hands in his lap. Ilona looked down on the floor as well.

“I don’t know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm SORRY, alright...
> 
> Heartbreaks all around.
> 
> Here's chapter five, anyway. It's a bit short, but I couldn't think of more to write. Better short and high quality, than long and shitty.
> 
> Feedback and comments are always appreciated! <3
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Peace! <3


	6. Number Six

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitchell comes to terms with his feelings, and makes some new (old) friends.

SENTINEL HQ  
Aircraft hangar  
10 PM

It had been about an hour since they had landed at the base. Mitchell still felt a little bit out of it and, honestly, just unenthusiastic. He didn’t want to fight. Frankly, right now he just wanted to sleep.

When they’d landed, Cormack had told them about what would happen. He’d told them about Sentinel, about the KVA and Atlas, about Manticore. What the hell was Manticore? Knowing Irons, it would be something big. And dangerous. It scared the shit out of him.

Now, he and Ilona were alone in the hangar, sitting on top of some sort of crate. They sat in silence, Ilona looking as calm and collected as always (although there was an air of concern around her), and Mitchell wished he could be like her. Instead, he was a nervous wreck - he was bouncing his leg, biting his (real) nails, picking at whatever edge on his clothing he could find. He was silent, but he knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep quiet much longer, being as anxious as he was. When he had started to pick on the seams of ‘skin’ on his prosthetic arm, Ilona put her hand on top of his real hand. He glanced over to her.

“Mitchell, calm down. It won’t get better by breaking your arm.” she said, her voice firm and unyielding. Knowing that she wouldn’t take any protests from him, he put his hands in his lap.  
“Sorry, Ilona. I just- I just can’t shake the feeling that I did something wrong.” he mumbled, his eyes trained on the floor in front of him. He felt her stare on him, as if she was staring right through him, reading exactly what he felt. This woman terrified him - but he couldn't deny how amazing she was. And she was really nice when she wanted to be.

"It's about Gideon, right?"  
Mitchells head snapped up to look at her. How did she- well, Mitchell knew she would know. She always knew.  
He just wished she wouldn't know so _easily_.  
"...Yeah. Yeah, it is." He mumbled, looking away again. He didn't have much to lose now, anyway. "I love him, Ilona." he heard himself say, his voice almost breaking.  
"Mitchell, I knew that already. Both Gideon and you are so ridiculously obvious about it." Ilona said, gently rubbing his back with a hand. Her tone was warm, and Mitchell was sure there was a hint of amusement in there too. But he didn't read into it too much, as he fought the blush threatening to creep onto his face.  
"Is it really that easy to read people?" he mutters, not making eye contact, and he heard Ilona chuckle.  
"Reading you and Gideon is that easy. Not in matters of PDA, but how you both get so easily flustered around each other or the fact that Gideon is more softspoken and gentle when you're around. Not that hard to see, I honestly think even Joker was starting to notice." she said, and Mitchell finally smiled and laughed a bit.  
“Yeah, I guess if _Joker_ notices something, it’s pretty damn obvious.” he said, his laugh trailing off, and Ilona responded by patting him on the shoulder.  
"Finally, you smile. Look, Gideon is sharp, almost sharper than me. He'll see that something is wrong. And when he does, well... maybe he comes back to us. We'll just have to keep going until he does, okay?" she said, hand still on Mitchells shoulder as he shrugs.  
"He seemed pretty set on Irons beliefs."  
"That's because Atlas is his _home_ , Mitchell. He was there in the early days, around ten years ago, on a personal request from Irons. That's why he was so hard on you in the beginning, too, you were the only other one Irons asked to join Atlas. He felt a bit threatened." she continued, and Mitchell scoffed.  
"Threatened by a mildly suicidal ex-Marine missing an arm? Please."  
He heard Ilona sigh.  
"Mitchell, don't be like that. He felt threatened because Irons took a shine to you. He's lived for Irons for over 6 years before you came along. Trust me though, he liked you from the start, he just needed to test you. There's a reason why the two of you were partners. Gideon requested it from Irons personally, aside from having you on his team."  
Ilonas words made Mitchells mind go blank for a moment. Had Gideon asked Irons for them to be partners? Seriously? That must’ve been right before the mission in Nigeria. The thought made him smile.  
“Thanks for telling me this, Ilona, I feel better now.” he mumbles, looking down on his hands. He was going to ask more about Gideon, since Ilona seemed to know a lot about him while Mitchell knew, well, almost nothing. It was probably not that weird, seeing as Ilona had worked with Gideon longer than him. But as he opened his mouth to say something, Ilonas gaze fixed to something behind him. 

He turned around to see Cormack coming in in full gear, another man in gear following behind him. Mitchell felt like he recognised the other man, but he couldn't pinpoint him. Ilona patted his shoulder.  
"Let's go find out what we signed up for."

Mitchell nodded once and got up. He listened to Ilona argue with Cormack.  
"We'll be up against people we trained with. Fought with." she said, and Mitchell saw clearly how Cormack almost broke under her firm voice and hard attitude. It almost made him smile, truly noone could go up against Ilona unfazed.  
"I know this is hard on you. But I need you to move past that." Cormack said, looking at Ilona, then Mitchell, who had yet to say a word. Cormack turned and started walking towards the large helicopter behind him, indicating for Ilona and Mitchell to follow, the other geared man following along too. Mitchell let out a loud, frustrated sigh, pain emitting from his ribs. Two more weeks of rehabilitation, yeah right.

Today would be a long day.

*********************

After a successful infiltration mission at Irons personal estate (where Mitchell nearly had been caught by drones several times), Mitchell, Ilona, Cormack and the man he got to know to be Knox along with two divers were back in the bird, Cormack and Mitchell being soaking wet, and Mitchell was shivering. His whole body was starting to hurt as the adrenaline started fading, and he just wanted to get back to the damn base and dry off, get some medication or something from a doctor (there had to be one) and then sleep. He was positive he hadn't been this tired since his sleepless nights during the first few weeks at Atlas.

He vigorously shook his head, hair flying and spraying water all around him. Ilona was the unlucky one to sit next to him, and she got several splashes of water into the side of her face. In response, Mitchell got a shriek (which made him start giggling uncontrollably, he  
didn’t expect that kind of noise from Ilona) and a slap over the head, but even though it hurt, he couldn’t stop laughing. (He blamed it on being tired.) 

After a while of staring at Mitchell, offended, Ilona couldn’t keep herself from joining in on the laughter. She hadn’t seen Mitchell laugh like that in a long time and she was relieved he was still able to see the fun in situations like this despite all the shit he’d gone through in his lifetime, and she heard Knox and Cormack opposite to them start laughing as well. 

By the time Mitchell stopped laughing and caught his breath, the other three soldiers were all smiling fondly at him, Cormack especially. The seargant hadn't met Mitchell since he'd started working at Atlas. There had been a stray call or e-mail to reassure Cormack that he was fine and maybe some progress on his arm, but after the last e-mail where Mitchell told him that he'd passed and was going to have his first mission soon, there had been nothing. It was a relief that Mitchell was alive and well.

The rest of the flight back home was spent in a comfortable silence. Somewhere midway Mitchell had fallen asleep and noone had the heart to wake him up. Everyone knew he'd been through a lot the last 24 hours and they knew that he was tired and in pain due to his neglected injuries. They all silently agreed that he'd been through enough crap for today, and deserved all the rest he could get, because they'd have to head out again within 12 hours, if not less, to bring that plane down.

They arrived back to base a couple of hours later, Mitchell waking up when the bird landed. The man stretched before gathering up the gear pieces he'd stripped off, and got off the helicopter with his comrades. By now the adrenaline was completely gone and his body screamed in protest with every movement. His walk was stiff and when he'd gotten out of his gear, Cormack approached him.

"Sorry for forcing you to move out injured, Mitchell. We were short on time and we needed you with us." the major said, looking honestly guilty. Mitchell smiled in response.  
"No, it's fine. Sure, my whole body hurts like hell, but it's worth it. Maybe we can finally pin that bastard." he said, shrugging, and he saw Cormacks face lighten up a bit.  
"You haven't changed at all, Mitchell. You're still that diligent, excellent soldier I got to know. Get your ass to a medic and then I'll have someone show you to your quarters so you can rest." he said, gingerly patting Mitchells back, mindful of the underlying injuries. Mitchell nodded in appreciation.  
"Thank you, Cormack. I'll see you later."

Later, when Mitchell had gotten his injuries tended to and been prescribed a pain killer (a rather strong one, at that), Knox had been the one to show him to his quarters.

The living area was very similar to what Atlas used to offer. The space was decorated with simple furniture and there was even a TV. He was surprised over the quality of the entire thing, since Sentinel was so much smaller and not as well-funded as Atlas. Knox had left him with a promise of food. Later, a lady came in with a tray of sandwiches and a cup of tea (Ilona must have told them what he liked), and when Mitchell thanked her with one lf his trademark gentle smiles, she'd started blushing and hurried out of the room after mumbling that it was no problem. He chuckled at her, she only seemed to be around 25 years old, and clearly not used to working in those circumstances. He knew the feeling.

When he'd finished eating, he'd kicked off his boots and crawled under the covers of his bed. He couldn't bring himself to take his clothes off, and he soon drifted off to a dreamless sleep.

He had to be ready to kick some ass when he'd wake up in a few hours.

Shit was about to go _down_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY another chapter!
> 
> Sorry for my semi-hiatus, my writers block acted up again. I hope the chapter isn't too shite!
> 
> Do you even know how hard it is to write a chapter without Gideon now? Thank fuck he'll be coming back in the next chapter.
> 
> Also, this week (until next Thursday) I'm gonna be in France (I'm actually uploading this from my room in France) for a school exchange thing, so I won't be able to get another chapter up until after thursday. Sorry!
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Peace! <3


	7. Number Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When shit goes down with the boys, it really goes down.
> 
> Hell is not hot - in fact, it's frozen, and called Antarctica.

ANTARCTICA  
Under the ice  
Around noon

The moment Mitchell felt the ice give way under his feet, he could only feel regret for everything. What the hell had he done that had made him deserve to get his entire squad thrown down a deep-ass rift, had to swim through freezing water (which had already made him cold, he was sure he was close to hypothermia at this point) and take down a small army by themselves. Now he felt the cold water shock his body as he broke through the ice and fell, and he sank. He sank for another few seconds as his mind panickedly tried to regain control over his body, and somewhere in the back of his mind he reminded himself to not move too much. He didn’t want his impending hypothermia to get worse than it needed.

He slowly and methodically swam towards the light he saw a few meters in front of him, as if he was on autopilot. When he reached it, he was relieved to see that it was indeed a hole in the ice. He saw the distorted picture of a gloved hand reaching towards the surface to pull him up. Without a second thought of who it could be that helped him up, he grabbed the hand and felt himself get pulled up out of the water, and he drew a deep breath of air into his burning lungs. 

What he saw when he looked up baffled him.

Before him was Gideon, with a firm grip on his hand and a smug smile on his face.  
“Trust me.” the captain said with a wink toward Mitchell, before he pulled him the rest of the way out of the water and then let go of his hand, Mitchell limply falling down onto the ice. He was so cold he could barely move at all, but when he heard the conversation taking place above him, he forced his stiff, shivering body to get up onto his knees, looking up at Gideon, and then the two other Atlas soldiers who had Cormack and Ilona down on their knees, hands above their heads. He couldn’t make out what was happening - was Gideon saving them, or was he capturing them?

His thoughts were proved positive when he heard Gideon report his comrades K.I.A., and then he saw how Gideon quickly put bullets in the two soldiers heads. His mind didn’t fully comprehend what was happening, but he knew it was to their advantage.

In the corner of his eye he saw Cormack and Ilona get up from their knees, Ilona instantly going over and starting to question the captain right away. Mitchell forced himself to get up and stand, every cell in his body screaming in protest. He slowly walked over to where Gideon, Cormack and Ilona stood, noone really paying attention to him, and he absently listened to the conversation playing out in front of him. Gideon suddenly talked into his comm, and then he looked straight at Mitchell.  
“Mitchell, Cormack, grab those stingers and get out of sight.”

The two men instantly followed the orders, hiding behind the snow pile closeby, waiting for the warbird with the Manticore cargo to come into sight. Mitchell was still shivering violently and he felt his clothes starting to freeze. Ilona and Cormack didn’t seem cold at all - their suit thermals hadn’t dropped as far as his had, he’d been far below zero degrees Celsius at one point.

“Okay, get a target lock, but don’t fire yet.” Gideon said, making sure that his comms were muted, and Mitchell took aim, the four missiles locking onto the aircraft, ready to be fired.  
“We’re tracking several heat signatures. Are you sure you’re alone down there?” he heard the pilot from Gideon’s comms, and the man turned to them.  
“Bring it down!”

Mitchell and Cormack fired, all 8 missiles hitting the warbird, effectively bringing it down to the ground. What was worse, though, was that it was starting to slide over the snow towards a cliff. If it fell, it would be over.  
Gideon was shouting at Mitchell to follow him as he started to run towards the sliding helicopter, and the surge of adrenaline made Mitchell forget all about being cold as he started to run the fastest he could after Gideon. 

When he got down, the british man did the best he could to hold up the warbird, to give Mitchell a few extra seconds. He forced the case open and pulled out one of the canisters, and he heard Gideon boost away from there. On his left, he heard a deafening noise, and his fears were confirmed when he looked and saw that the crashing helicopter had triggered an avalanche, and suddenly, he was frozen again. He heard Gideon desperately shouting at him from the exfil bird, and once again with his body acting on his own accord, he turned, ran, and boost jumped in the general direction of the bird. He wouldn’t reach, it was too high, and he desperately reached out towards the helicopter…

And Gideon once again caught his hand, pulling him up into safety. He tumbled into the helicopter, and he felt how Gideon wrapped his arms around him, how someone took the canister out of his hand. The doors closed and he felt how the aircraft went higher and started to fly away from there.

With the adrenaline subsiding, Mitchell felt himself starting to shiver violently again. The mild shock and the extreme cold were starting to get to him, and he couldn't bring himself to move. He stayed like that, stiffly curled up in Gideon's arms, until Gideon noticed his shivering and how his lips were turning blue, his breathing shallow.

His hearing was starting to become muffled - it sounded like he was underwater, and he couldn't focus.

What was happening to him?

He couldn’t breathe. Was he dying? He wanted to say he was scared, but he couldn’t make a sound.  
He closed his eyes, and he felt Gideon shake him and heard how everyone were shouting. He heard words like "hypothermia" and "injured" but before his mind could comprehend what was happening, he was enveloped by a comfortable darkness, drowning out all the noises around him.

*********************************

When Mitchell woke up, the first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes again was a bright white ceiling. He concluded that he was in hospital (but he couldn't remember how he got there.)

He drew a deep breath, his lungs burning worse than they had done before. He felt a nasal cannula stuck to his face, and wanted to take it off, but when he tried to move his hands, he found his right arm restricted.

At the crease of his elbow, he had an IV needle attached, and he decided not to be stupid enough to rip it out - he probably needed it.

But when he looked further down, he found Gideon with his arms folded on the mattress, head resting on top. His face was turned towards Mitchell, and the man was definitely asleep. One of his hands were firmly clasped around Mitchells.  
Feeling his chest and face heat up, he smiled. The captain really cared about him, huh.  
He carefully used his left hand to remove the beanie from the Brit's head, combing his fingers through the dark blonde hair. The action made Gideon wake up immediately, and he blinked confusedly before realising Mitchell was awake, and the captain sat up straight, but didn't let go of Mitchells hand.

"Thank god you're awake, Jack." he heard Gideon mumble, and the older man grasped his hand with both of his, leaning his forehead against them.  
"Hey, Gideon." Mitchell said, his voice only a weak, raspy whisper. His throat hurt like mad, but he still smiled.  
"Don't you fucking dare scare me like that again! I thought you were dying when you just passed out like that." Gideon said, looking up at him, anger playing across his features. But in his eyes, Mitchell could read how relieved the older man really was.  
"Yeah, I thought I was going to." he mumbled in response, trying to sit up, but Gideon immediately pushed him back down onto the pillows.  
"Nope, you're staying down. You got away easily this time, but you had severe hypothermia. The doctors think you have pneumonia, but it doesn't seem too bad right now. You have to stay here for another night." Gideon explained, and Mitchell let out a small, cracked whine.  
"How long have I been out?" he said, coughing lightly. He saw Gideons expression turn troubled.  
"48 hours. Severe hypothermia, exhaustion and neglected injuries. You were half-concious at some points, you were uneasy and you were talking in your sleep. I think you were having nightmares. I stayed here the entire time to watch over you."  
"The entire time? Have you slept?" he said, worried. He knew Gideon didn’t need much, but if he hadn’t taken care of himself…

Gideon seemed to understand his unsaid concerns, and gently ran a hand through Mitchells hair to reassure him.  
“I’m okay, don’t worry about me, mate. You should focus more on taking care of yourself first, before worrying about others. I’m not the one on the verge of crashing due to neglecting my personal health.” he said, voice suddenly soft. Had Gideon always been that soft? He never expected that kind of gentleness from him. Well, during the last month he’d experienced a surprising lot of it, so why was he even surprised?  
“I’m sorry, Gideon.” he mumbled, looking down on his hands. “I promise to take better care of myself in the future.” He felt honestly ashamed. He’d lost an arm, he didn’t want to lose the rest.

“You did scare the utter shit out of us at one point, though, when we just arrived back to the base. The medics hadn’t made it there yet to get you, but you stopped breathing, and we almost didn’t notice, and we couldn’t get you to start again. The medics did, though, but you’ve been unconcious the entire time, so we didn’t know how much damage it could’ve done.. We… I… I almost lost you, there.” he finished, voice almost breaking towards the end. Mitchell watched as Gideon got up from his chair, turning away and rubbing at his face. The british man seemed so far out from his usual behaviour, he seemed close to breaking. He’d never seen Gideon so helplessly frustrated, but he didn’t want to see it again.  
“Gideon… I’m here. I’m alive. You don’t have to be afraid, you haven’t lost me. And you probably won’t lose me for a good while, anyway.” he said, with a reassuring, but sad smile.  
“I know, but…” he heard the british man mumble, and Mitchell had had enough.  
He sat up and carefully swung his legs over the edge of the bed, building up the courage to get onto his feet and stand. Gideon turned back to Mitchell, seeing him struggle to get up on his feet, and he hurried over to the younger man, putting his hands on Mitchells shoulders.  
“Hey hey, Jack, please lay down again, you need to rest-” he started, trying to push Mitchell back down, but the private was having none of it.

“Gideon, shut the fuck up for a second and let me do this.”

Mitchell stood, and took the small step forward to wrap his arms tightly around Gideons shoulders, struggling to stay upright. He relaxed when he felt Gideons arms circle his waist and helped support his weight.  
“Jack…?”  
“I’m alive, don’t think about how close it was. I’m here with you, I’m breathing. Please don’t be sad anymore.” he mumbled into Gideons shoulder, closing his eyes. He wanted the other man to feel that he was still there, that he was safe, that Gideon didn’t need to worry.  
The british man was silent, but after a few moments, he nodded.  
“...Yeah. You’re here.” he mumbled, before lowering Mitchell back to the bed, despite the younger man not wanting to. “But you still need to rest, or you may get worse. Please listen to your old captain for once, okay?” he said, the rare, soft smile back on his face. Mitchell could never resist that smile, and he reluctantly got back down into bed, Gideon making sure the brunet was completely covered by the duvet.

And before he could comprehend what was happening, Gideon had leaned forward and pressed his lips against Mitchells in a soft, chaste kiss - a kiss filled by so many emotions, a lot of which Mitchell couldn't place, a silent promise to stay by his side.  
Mitchell just barely had time to kiss back before Gideon pulled back.  
“Promise to stay alive for me, eh, Jack? I’m gonna go get your doctors, tell them you’re awake.” he said, getting up and walking towards the door. Right before he left the room, he turned back, fucking _winked_ , and left, leaving Mitchell as an inappropriately blushing mess.

What a smug bastard he had to deal with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Literally the only thing I thought while playing this part of the game was "Man, that kid is gonna get hypothermia. Too much cold."
> 
> Sorry for making it so dramatic - BUT I NEEDED THE FEELINGS. I made myself sniff or squeal sometimes while I wrote this. (IN TWO DAYS! THAT'S A RECORD!)
> 
> Feedback, comments and kudos (or literally anything else, I'm always a slut for fanart if you know what I'm saying) is super appreciated and I love everyone for all your sweet comments and feedback about the chapters. I really love writing when I get this kind of response <3
> 
> Also, if you want to know something, pester me about the next chapter, or submit stuff to me, my tumblr is www.rickyatyourservice.tumblr.com! (I literally could not figure out how to make that into a clickable link. Please, someone, teach me how to code in HTML.)
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Peace! <3


	8. Number Eight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Conflicts are solved, and something made official.
> 
> Brace yourselves, the fluff is coming.

SENTINEL HQ  
Shooting range  
15.35

Three days had passed since Mitchell had woken up, and he’d just gotten out of hospital. His body was mostly healed now and he was deemed fit for duty, but he still felt out of it. The last couple of days had been extremely confusing for him, and while his body was ready to get into the fight again, almost _longing_ for it, his mind was not.

Gideon had visited him every day since he woke up, and he’d been there for as long as he was allowed. There had been brief hand holdings, Gideon brushing his hair away from his forehead when he was almost asleep, quick kisses on his forehead when Gideon had to leave, either because the nurses forced him to, or because someone wanted to question him (again). They hadn’t kissed again, but it wasn’t needed. He knew Gideon had a hard time coming to terms with his feelings. Himself, he’d accepted it easily, but everyone was different.

He went to the shooting range to get some practice in before he went into the next mission. He tried to tighten his grip on the foregrip of the ASM-1 he had picked up. His prosthetic had been malfunctioning slightly ever since Antarctica, and his only conclusion was that the water and the cold had damaged it. Sadly, the technicians in Sentinel didn’t even know how it would be constructed without disconnecting the entire arm, and they hadn’t had the chance to do that. He’d just have to deal with it glitching sometimes.

He squeezed the foregrip and felt his grip being weaker than usual. He lined up the red dot on his hybrid sight on the red glowing figure in front of him, and fired a few rounds until the figure disappeared. His aim was perfect as usual, but the recoil made him flinch worse than usual. Man, he needed a lot of practice. 

After about half an hour, he was still shooting, having switched between different guns and rifles. He was using a Bal-27 at the moment, and didn’t hear someone walk in until they touched his shoulder. Startled, he lowered the assault rifle and turned around, to find Gideon look back at him. He took his ear protectors off, walking past the British man to put the rifle back on the rack. He took a look at the leader board. He was in second place, just under Ilona (who within a month had gotten first place on all the practice ranges, just like at Atlas.)  
“Hey, Gideon. All good?” he said, turning to smile softly at his former captain.  
“Mitchell, we need to talk about what happened before Antarctica. And about us.” the other man mumbled, seeming embarrassed. Mitchell blinked, somewhat taken aback, before he nodded.  
“Yeah, yeah, we should. Where should we go?” he said tentatively, not sure if the man was angry or not, if the discussion would be bad.  
“Let’s go to my quarters. It’s at the far end of the corridor for now, I’ll probably be moved closer in a couple of days.” the man said, nodding in the direction of the door. Mitchell nodded in response, and they both started walking.  
Gideon had just gotten out of questioning (again) and they finally decided to trust him and let him stay in Sentinel, mostly thanks to Mitchell and Ilona convincing Cormack he was trustworthy, Cormack in turn convincing Kingpin. Mitchell was happy that Gideon was back with them - with him. He shuddered at the thought of having to fight against him. He dreaded having to fight Joker at some point, too - what happened to him? Was he still there, at Atlas? Did he know what was going on?  
Was the man even still alive?

Eventually they reached Gideon’s room, and Mitchell was guided to sit down on the bed. Gideon was surprisingly clean - though the man was rough, his living space was always clean. It wasn't as impeccably clean as Mitchells space tended to be, but it was clean enough to be able to function. Sure, there was a stray shirt over a chair, or a few papers scattered on the floor, but it was nice and neat otherwise.  
Gideon came to sit down beside him.

“So, um. What did you need to talk to me about?” Mitchell mumbled nervously. Gideon’s face was still set in stone, letting no emotion through.  
“... I’m sorry for not going with the two of you, back at Atlas. I was just… conflicted. I wanted to trust the two of you, but I couldn’t be sure, and when Irons came in, it was as if my mind just shut right down. I followed him without thinking, I immediately thought that you two were enemies. I guess that’s why I never fucking questioned what he set us out to do during the years I worked for him.” he said, taking a deep breath while he paused. Mitchell remained silent, not wanting to interrupt Gideon while he told his side of the story. Eventually, Gideon continued.  
“When I saw your face, I realized I had fucked up, and I had fucked up bad. You looked as if I had just ripped your heart out of your chest. And in a way, I guess I did.” the older man mumbled, rubbing his face out of frustration. “I was such a fucking idiot.”  
“Come on, Gideon, don't say that.” Mitchell said, rubbing the british mans back with his real hand. He once again waited for Gideon to talk, knowing he had more to get off his chest.  
“During the chase, I knew that I couldn't capture the two of you. I still wanted to trust your judgement. Ilona is a lot sharper than I gave her credit for. Anyway, after I let you go, I spent three solid days going through the databases, including Irons’ personal one. I eventually found an identical copy of the data Ilona showed us, and I knew... I knew that it was true. I knew I had to reach you somehow. And then Irons sent me to lead a squad in Antarctica. I’m fucking stupid for not trusting you or Ilona, and I hate myself for being manipulated by Irons for so long. I didn't even realize that he betrayed all my beliefs I had joined up for.”

Mitchell sat quiet in thought for a while, trying to find words. He was relieved that Gideon shared this with him. Eventually he sighed.  
“Gideon. Neither me and Ilona blame you for this. Of course, we were confused and felt betrayed, but you’ve been working for Atlas over ten years. We figured you'd have a hard time to just break away from it. And honestly, I want to forget everything. The important thing is that your here with us. With me.” he mumbled, carefully intertwining his right hands’ fingers with Gideons left.  
“Also, sorry for being so indifferent back there, too. I would've probably been more emotional, but I was so cold, like… My mind had shut down. And it felt so familiar to see you, so I guess I just accepted the situation. I honestly don't remember too much of what happened. I was just focusing on staying alive long enough to finish the mission.” he finished, looking up at the ceiling. It was terrifying to think about how close he was to actually dying back then.  
His prosthetic hand, resting on his lap, started twitching. It wasn't a big glitch, but it was annoying, especially when he was trying to do something inportant. The joints in his fingers were erratically twitching and locking up. He tried to close his hand into a fist to stop it twitching, but it wasn't obeying him as he wanted it to. The glitching hurt - not much, but enough to show.

Gideon noticed how Mitchells arm was acting up. He knew that whenever it happened, the private was in more or less pain, and he wondered if he'd managed to download any of the blueprints of Mitchells arm. He remembered thinking about while searching the databases, but he didn't remember if he did it. He'd have to check the mini memory disks he’d brought with him later.

“How's your arm?” he asked when Mitchells expression turned pained, confirming his worries. The American looked over, a small, reassuring smile smoothing over the pain. Gideon absolutely fucking hated how Mitchell always hid his pain. It wasn't as if you weren't allowed to be hurt.  
“It hurts a bit. It's been glitching like this since I woke up after Antarctica - it's damaged somehow.” Jack said, forcing his fingers to open and close, the joints whirring as they fought against the twitching. “I guess it froze up a bit or something, I don't know.”

After a few moments of silence, Gideon absentmindedly brushed a lock of hair away from Mitchells forehead.  
“We still need to talk about… whatever is between us.” the Brit said quietly, running his fingers through Mitchells hair. The younger man in turn closed his eyes and nodded a little.  
“Yeah, we should. A, uh, _relationship_ like ours will probably bring some problems with it.”  
They spent another moment in comfortable silence, as Gideons fingers, surprisingly nimble, continued to brush through Mitchells hair. It gave him something to do with his unoccupied hand, his other still intertwined with Mitchells, because if his hands were unoccupied, he would start to fidget. If there was anything Gideon Emery did not do, it was fidgeting.  
“...Fuck it, I’m just gonna say it straight out.” the captain muttered, his hand sliding down to the side of Mitchells face, gently turning his head. The private looked back at him with his brilliant blue eyes, and Gideon almost faltered.

“I’m in love with you, Mitchell. It's the easiest way to put it into words. And I won't repeat it so you better fucking listen up. You mean the most to me, alright, you’re the most important thing to walk on this cursed earth. I can't believe these words are actually coming out of my mouth and I can't believe you're the one to coax them out of me. Bloody hell.” he finishes, and looks down to the floor and chuckles. He didn't look up again until he heard Mitchells mumbled reply.  
“... I love you too. I think I have loved you for a long time. I’ve never… like… I’ve never felt this way for a man. I never thought I would.”  
He met the privates gaze, both wearing matching smiles.  
“I don't give a shit. Come here.”  
Gideon pulled Mitchell into a tight hug, burying his face in the younger mans neck. Mitchell giggled softly at the way Gideon’s beard was scratching at the sensitive skin, but buried his face in Gideon’s shoulder, the familiar scent giving him a feeling of safety. His left hand had stopped twitching and he curled the fingers of both hands into the fabric of Gideons jacket.

“How long before Ilona figures it out?” he felt Gideon mumble against his skin, and Mitchell chuckled.  
“The moment we step outside this room, probably.” he said in response, pulling back slightly from the hug, but he let his hands rest on Gideons shoulders, and he felt Gideons hands settle at his waist.  
“For the moment, let's keep this down. If people figure it out, that's fine, but let's not go around announcing it. And we still need to focus on whatever mission we get before each other.” Mitchell said, his eyes not meeting Gideons. Gideon knew that Mitchell didn't want to have to say that, but they both knew it was true. The mission went first of all, but it was still inportant to care about comrades.  
“But don't you fucking dare run around trying to get hurt. And stop neglecting the fact that you get hurt, Jack, because you do that, and it scares the shit out of me.” he said, watching Mitchells gaze turn back to him. The younger man smiled.  
“I promise I’ll try to stay in the clear. But then again, we’re soldiers and our job is dangerous, so I can't promise one hundred percent. But I’ll try.”  
Gideon sighed with relief.  
“Good.” he said, before leaning forward to kiss the younger man.

Maybe _everything_ wasn't against him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh man, this chapter took me a while. My depression has been acting up as well as school stressing the shit out of me, and with that, my writers block. Sorry for the unintentional hiatus!
> 
> Also, this chapter will probably have some trouble with the flow and stuff. I was truly fighting to write this. It's probably super OOC as well, but I tried my best to keep them in character (writing Gideon was super tricky this time.)
> 
> Feedback and/or comments are more appreciated than ever!
> 
> Thanks for reading! <3


	9. Number Nine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The mission had been successful and they'd made it out without a scratch.
> 
> Well, mostly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy fucking shit I'm awful.
> 
> When did I actually upload an actual chapter? Wasn't that around october or something???
> 
> Anyway, despite writers block, school and other projects I managed to pull this out of my ass. I really hope it's decent enough to read! (If anyone actually wants to read my shit, still...) It's not up to par with my other chapters.
> 
> Well, I guess that's it. Not so many feels in this one, bit fluffy towards the end.
> 
> Once all this is done, which will be relatively PG-13, I'll probably do a second story, portraying the events after the game. And that may or may not contain some... dirtier scenes...
> 
> Enough ranting. Thanks in advance for reading, you can find me at pale-gay-eagle-prince on tumblr if you wanna catch up with me!
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Sentinel warbird  
Somewhere over Bulgaria  
Middle of the night

 

With a loud bang, the helicopter shook and Mitchell was thrown onto the floor.

“We’re hit! Atlas EMP!” the pilots voice cut through the screeching alarm. The red flashing lights in the otherwise dark helicopter made it hard to see, and he shook his head to clear the dizziness from the impact.

“Gideon?” he shouted, spotting him by the forced open hatch. He crawled over, seeing the other man frantically tapping the panel on his exo, but it wasn’t responding.

“Fuck! Exo’s failing!” Gideon said, turning to him. The man looked scared but determined, and Mitchell was sure it was mirrored on his own face. His mind went blank for a second under the realization that they were most likely not going to survive this.

Somewhere he heard the pilots muffled scream of “Brace for impact!”, and he felt Gideon grab his arm.

“Come on, Mitchell! Jump!” he shouted, and for a second their eyes locked together, Mitchell nodded, and threw himself out of the helo without a second thought, Gideon following after. They had no chutes and below them were a dense forest, and his logical mind knew that he probably wouldn’t survive this. In an effort to lessen the impending physical trauma, he initiated the Stim function on his exo, yelled at Gideon to do the same, and braced for a rough landing.

Mitchells conciousness didn’t really kick in again until they were a good mile away from where they landed (painfully) and a bullet zoomed past his head and hit the ground right next to Gideon’s feet. In turn, the sounds of a helo was getting closer behind them. He heard himself yell Gideon’s name, and the british man turned around as Mitchell ducked from another bullet. Under Gideon’s half-panicked command of “They're onto us! Leg it!”, he strained his aching muscles beyond what he thought possible and ran even faster, making sure not to run in a straight line.

They kept ducking and getting over things until they were inside the forest, hoping the trees would hide them well enough. Mitchell took a moment to catch his breath while Gideon climbed up the wall in front of them. As soon as Gideon said they were clear, Mitchell started climbing up after him, struggling to reach every branch when suddenly, a particularly thin one he grabbed broke, and he lost his grip with a yelp. He managed to hold on, just barely, and just before the enemy helo’s search light would brush over him, he heard Gideon’s affirmation and order that the exo was back up and he needed to cloak ASAP. Panickedly, he slammed the button for cloak on his control panel on his left arm, wishing desperately that he had been fast enough.

The light from the helicopter brushed over him, and then he heard the noise of the rotor blades fading as the helicopter turned and left. Letting out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, he hauled himself up over the edge of the small cliff, rolling onto his back to breathe and calm down a bit. He uncloaked and the helmet’s mask opened, letting the cool night air hit his face and supply him with fresh oxygen.

“You alright, Jack?” he heard Gideon ask him, the british man kneeling beside him and placing a hand on his shoulder. Mitchell nodded in the response, keeping his eyes closed still.

“Y-yeah, I’m fine. Just give me a second.” he mumbled in between forced deep breaths, placing his hand over Gideon’s in an attempt to be reassuring. Gideon chuckled.

“You really gotta stop almost getting yourself killed, Mitchell.”

“You’re the one who threw me out of a plane.” Mitchell retorted with a small smile, and he heard Gideon huff.

“Touché.”

A few moments later he got up, shaking himself free of any dirt from the ground. He nodded at Gideon, and they started moving again, slowly, carefully, after they had cloaked again.

They didn’t get very far until Gideon unceremoniously shoved him onto the ground at the sight of the vibrant blue search light of a seeker.

“Drone! Don’t move!” he hissed over the comms, and Mitchell stayed deathly still, cheek pressed against the rough sandy ground. When it turned towards him, he squeezed his eyes shut. Surely he’d be out of luck by now.

He almost wanted to laugh in relief when the drone passed over him and flew away from there. He managed to keep his shit together, and slowly got up to follow Gideon again.

They slowly made their way forward, encountering two guards. Nodding at each other, Mitchell went up to the closest one, effortlessly snapping his neck, and he looked up just in time to see Gideon expertly finish off his guard. They quickly grabbed the Bal-27’s off of the bodies, along with all the clips they could find, along with taking their sidearms. Gideon inspected the rifles.

“These are unsuppressed. Only shoot as a last resort.” he said sternly, looking at Mitchell as if he was an unobedient child, and if that’s the role he got, he’d reply in a fitting manner.

“Yes, mum.” he said with a ridiculous smirk on his face, hearing Gideon grumble at him before contacting Prophet. Mitchell listened while keeping a close look on his surroundings. The last thing they wanted was company. After a while he heard Prophet deny them exfil and advised them to link up with Cormack and Knox - to which Gideon muttered, annoyed.

They slowly moved through the camp, silently dropping the guards they deemed necessary. Mitchell followed closely behind Gideon’s every move, and they finally made it out, both in one piece. Eventually they linked up with Knox and Cormack. Mitchell absently listened to what they said. He didn’t notice he’d zoned out until Gideon snapped his fingers in front of his face. When he looked up at the man, having an expectant look on his face, Mitchell fumbled to attach his rope to the rappel, and looked over to Gideon once more.

“He’s hard bastard, I’ll give him that. Let's do this.” Gideon said to him, and jumped over the edge to start lowering himself down, Mitchell following shortly after. As his feet touched ground, he cloaked, crouching down beside the other three men. 

Time to get going.

***************************************

By the time they’d all made it into the helo and was finally on the way to safety, Mitchell was panting just a bit heavier than the others. The mission had been successful and they’d destroyed what had to be destroyed and uploaded the intel needed directly to Kingpin, and they’d made it out without a scratch.

Well, mostly.

As usual (where the hell was his luck this week?), Mitchell had taken the most of the damage, including a ridiculously heavy punch from an AST right in his abdomen when he’d struggled to cycle a tactical grenade, his attention averted for just a second, enough for it to come close to him. He hoped and prayed nothing would be broken this time around, and it seems like the rest of the team noticed his excessive shortness of breath, and Gideon was first to break the silence.

“Shit, Mitchell, are you alright?” he said, voice rather neutral, like he didn’t know if he should tease Mitchell for being so out of breath, or be worried. Mitchell responded with a pained chuckle, eyes squeezed closed.

“Nah, not really.” he mumbled, leaning his head back onto the wall of the helicopter. “Took one hell of a punch from that AST.” he continued, cracking his eyes open to glance over at Gideon who looked mildly horrified, and when he let his gaze sweep over Cormack and Knox, they had similar expressions.

“As soon as this helicopter lands, you're going to medical. I’ll call medics to meet us at the landing pad.” Cormack said, face serious and set in stone. Knox and Gideon mumbled in agreement to the majors words, while Mitchell protested.

“Cormack, that really isn't necessary, I can walk there myself.” he said, trying to calm his breathing despite how bad it hurt to draw air deep into his lungs. Cormack was having none of it, however.

“Mitchell, this is an order. The medics will meet us at the landing pad and you will go with them and do what they say. We don't know how hurt you are until the adrenaline has subsided, so don't trust what you feel right now.”

He thought of retorting again, but decided against it when Gideon put a hand on his shoulder.

“Listen to him, Mitchell. Better that you get care before you push yourself too far.” the british man mumbled, his tone stern, hand moving to the back of the taller man’s neck, playing gently with the locks of hair there. Mitchell nodded with a soft smile in response, before closing his eyes and leaning back again. He didn't speak for the rest of the flight back to HQ, but everyone knew he was awake. They could see how he fought to keep his face blank and free from any evidence of pain.

Gideon had to repeatedly remind himself that if Mitchell hid his pain, it was manageable. Gideon had briefly seen Mitchell in bad pain, when his arm had been so badly fucked up that Mitchell had been squirming and convulsing in pain due to the broken electronics in the prosthetic. He never wanted to see it again.

He occasionally reached up to play with the hairs at the nape of Mitchells neck, seeing how it relaxed the other man each time. Shame be damned, he didn't care if it looked weird to others. If he had any chance of helping Mitchell relax, he’d do whatever.

After a too long flight and they landed back at the helipad on HQ, medics swarmed them. A few asked how Knox and Cormack were doing, while Gideon helped the very stiffly moving Mitchell out of the helicopter. He was breathing heavier and more erratically now after sitting still for so long, his lungs constricting and protesting every move he made. Despite being sure he could make it to medical himself, he said nothing as the medics took over and asked him to lay down on the stretcher they had brought. Gideon noted how Mitchell seemed like he was in worse pain now, and it worried him when he let his gaze sweep over the private, noticing his left hand was erratically twitching. However, they couldn't know just how hurt he was until medical was done with him, nor if the malfunctioning prosthetic was simply what had happened regularly since Antarctica, or due to something else.

Despite being in what Gideon thought to be a considerable amount of pain, Mitchell was answering every question the medics asked of him, staying perfectly coherent the entire way through. He watched as they rolled the stretcher away, and he chuckled when he heard Mitchell grumble something about being able to walk himself.

 

After stripping off all his gear, taking a quick shower in his quarters and dressing in fresh, standard issue T-shirt and cargo pants, Gideon quickly made his way over to the medical wing. Well there, he was surprised to see Mitchell already on his way out. 

“Hey, Mitchell.” he said, raising a hand in greeting, relieved when he saw the other man smile tiredly back at him.

“Hi.” he mumbles as Gideon walks up to him, setting a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“How does it look? Seeing as you're already on your way out, nothing broken?” he says, and Mitchell shakes his head.

“I was lucky, bruised ribs and maybe some bruising on internal organs, but they couldn't see any internal bleeding. So they're letting me out with painkillers and a promise to rest.” he said, lifting his T-shirt slightly to show the bandages around his torso, and Gideon winced.

“Fucking damn it, you need to stop getting hurt.” he mumbles, running his hand across his face. Mitchell was quick to smile and put a hand on the british mans shoulder.

“Shit like this happens in the field. Not much we can do except for going back in, doing our best.” he says, voice soft and reassuring. Gideon nods at him, the furrow between his eyebrows softening.

“Yeah, you're right. But come on, let's get you to bed. You need to rest.” he says, lightly pushing the taller man towards the exit of the medical ward, Mitchell rolling his eyes.

“I’m an adult, Gideon, I can take care of myself.”

“Don't seem like it, mate.”

“Fuck off.”

They both laugh at the exchange, walking rather quickly to the living area of the HQ. Mitchell had a soft smile on his face the entire time, fingers occasionally brushing against Gideons as they walked. He liked this. They were soldiers, and they had to be somewhat ready for that at any given moment, they could be gone. But while they still had time, it was nice to have this.

Gideon ended up staying in Mitchells room, the younger man being slightly worried he’d have nightmares. The bed was not nearly wide enough for the both of them, but it didn't matter - having Mitchell resting his head on his shoulder while slowly falling asleep was one of the best things he knew.


	10. Number Ten

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Needless to say, Mitchell didn't like the Golden Gate Bridge quite so much anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING!  
> This chapter contains rather graphic descriptions of the aftermaths of a severe concussion. In this case, vomiting.  
> I've never had a concussion, so I don't know how it works. But I know there's vomiting involved.
> 
> It's a long chapter, too! I wanted to include both of the missions (Collapse and Armada) in one chapter, so here you go! It's over 4000 words long. Be happy. And yes, I know it's shitty. It took me several months to write in between exams, anxiety, trying to save grades, going to France again and being ill for two weeks, but fuck it, here it is. We're getting close to the end now!
> 
> (There will be a sequel to War at Heart, trust me! I have so many ideas for where I want the sequel to go. I can't wait to finish the main story so that I can drown you in my own shitty ideas.)
> 
> Enjoy, and thanks for reading!
> 
> Peace! <3

SENTINEL HQ  
Mitchells room  
4:34 AM

“Mitchell? Come on, you gotta wake up.”

“Mm, no.... What time is it…?”

“It’s 4:34 AM. Cormack’s called us in, says Irons will make an announcement in 30 minutes. We have to meet him in the media hall in 20.”

Gideon nudged the american once again, the younger man burrowing his face in the pillow and groaning. He chuckled when Mitchell glared at him with one eye, and he ruffled his dark, already messy hair.

“Come on, Jack, you don’t want to miss this. When this is all over, you’ll get to sleep all you want and need. We don’t even know if we have to move out just yet, maybe you’ll be able to catch some hours after this.”

“Ughh, fine.” the brunette grumbled, pushing himself up with surprising grace for someone with badly bruised ribs. He stood up from the bed and moved past Gideon, delivering a friendly punch on his shoulder, before grabbing his uniform pants from the floor and pulling them on while moving over to his small dresser to find a clean T-shirt. He started to pull it on, but was stopped by Gideon’s hand settling on the small of his back.

“Nurse said you had to change your bandages, right? C’mon, let me do it.” he says, taking the T-shirt out of his hands and setting it on top of the dresser.

“Gideon, it’s not a wound.”

“No, but they’re meant to support your ribs, and for that they need to be tight. Sit your ass down.” the older man said, pushing Mitchell back to the bed. He reluctantly sat down, Gideon sitting down next to him as he started to unwrap his bandages.

“Bruising’s worse today.” Mitchell heard the other man mumble as he started to wrap the bandages around his torso again, tighter than before. Mitchell hummed in response, rubbing at his eyes to combat the sleepiness he still felt. He must’ve zoned out at some point, but suddenly Gideon had finished wrapping the bandages and carefully patted his upper back.

“Alright, all done. Get dressed and ready, we need to be down there in ten.”

“Will do.”

*********************

“So what the hell was that?” Mitchell said, voice low as he turned to look at Gideon, his facial expression a mix of fear and anger. Gideon met his eyes, his own features set in stone.

“Couldn’t tell ya, mate. But it sounded like an awful lot Irons declaring war.”

“We took out his WMD’s. Without Manticore, Atlas doesn’t stand a chance-”

“Cormack, you need to see this!” Knox’s voice echoed through the room, successfully interrupting Mitchell’s sentence as he set his tablet down on the table, and Mitchell turned around to face the other two men in the room. Cormack stood closer to the large screen on the wall, back turned away from them.

“Talk to me.” he said, not turning around with his eyes still fixed on the large screen. Even without seeing his face, Mitchell heard the stern, cold tone and he knew exactly what was going on in Cormack’s head. He’d heard that tone many times before.

“We cracked the encryption of the last set of uploads.” Knox announced, tapping away at his tablet and swiping up a map onto the large screen, littered with red dots across the U.S..

“What am I looking at?”

“Potential targets - Irons had a fallback plan if Atlas was ever backed into a corner.” Knox responded, continuing to tap away at his tablet.

“A preemptive strike - he’s gonna try to knock us out before the fight has even begun.” Cormack concluded, turning back to the three soldiers behind him. Mitchell’s face fell for a moment, before he suddenly looked angry.

“A direct attack on the U.S.? Are we sure Irons is even up for that?” he says, taking a step closer to the table. Gideon slowly walked over to a chair, setting his hands on the backrest.

“So what’s the play?” Gideon said after a moment of tense silence. “No way Atlas can hit ‘em all at once.”

Another moment of silence spread between the four men, until Cormack pointed to a spot on the map.

“San Francisco. The entire third fleet is in the bay.” he says, turning around while the map zoomed in, but his eyes fixed on Mitchell and Gideon.

“I need you two on the ground, now.” he said, the two men immediately nodding and turning around, hurriedly walking out of the media room to gear up. As soon as they were both out of the room, Mitchell scoffed.

“So much for catching up on sleep, huh.” he says, a soft, playful smile on his face, despite the serious situation. Gideon chuckled in response.  
“Yeah, well, it has to be over some day. You’ll get to sleep then.” the British man said, slapping Mitchell’s shoulder.

“I guess that’ll have to do. Come on, let’s get to work.”

***************************

They had moved out exactly 40 minutes later, and upon arriving they’d gotten orders to sit and keep watch for any vehicle that broke the checkpoint a mile behind them. They’d been sitting like this for three hours now, seemingly no action at all, until Cormack’s voice came across the comms.

“Gideon, report in.”

Mitchell quickly swiped the older man the screen over the windshield, turning to face him as he was checking stats.

“North side’s all clear- wait, what’s he playing at?” he reported, switching from one camera to another, watching a white van speeding up until it suddenly passed them, the wind enough to rock their Pitbull jeep.

“What do you got?” Cormack demanded, at the same time as Gideon shouted “He’s rabbiting! Let’s move!”

Mitchell slammed his foot down on the accelerator and gripped the steering wheel tighter, starting to follow the van while Gideon reported back.

“White van with commercial plates just jumped the checkpoint! We’re in pursuit!”

“There could be anything inside that van. Pursue, but do not engage.” came the response from the major, the small beep over the comms indicating that the major had turned his mic off.

“Punch it, Mitchell.” Gideon ordered him, so he did - they were almost catching up with the bastard when the van rammed into a bus in front of them so it spun out, blocking the road, and Mitchell had to maneuver the jeep down into the construction site along the side, slamming through blockades and wire fences on his way through. 

“Stay on him!” he heard Gideon shout, and he bit down on his lip, fingers gripping the steering wheel tighter. They eventually made it up and immediately crashed into a car sliding in front of them. They pushed past the car as Knox’ voice came over the comms.

“Three more vehicles just jumped the checkpoint, they’re headed your way!” the technician shouted, and he heard Gideon reply “How the hell did ISR miss these bastards?!”

Mitchell tapped the small lever behind the steering wheel, shooting the vehicles that showed up as targets on the car’s HUD. They watched the chaos of exploding cars and cars spinning out in silence, except for small warnings from Gideon of what was up ahead.

A rather large explosion and a car beside them crashing into them caught Mitchell off guard and he jumped, yanking at the wheel enough for the jeep to spin out. Before he could regain control over it they slammed into the side wall, causing the vehicle to spin out more, while Mitchell struggled to keep it steady.

“Watch out!” Gideon yelled as they smashed through a fence down into the construction site again, where he finally gained control of the jeep again. He made it back up onto the road, avoiding to crash into a parked truck, as Cormack shouted orders over the comms.

“All units, we have multiple Atlas vehicles converging on the bridge! I need an immediate three-sixty on the fleet!” the major yelled, quickly continuing when he didn’t get an answer. “Kingpin, we have enemy targets on the bridge. Code Red on all units.”

Mitchell quickly maneuvered their Pitbull between the already weaving cars, shooting towards the targeted vehicles as soon as he had a clear shot. Kingpins voice came on.

“Copy that. We are sending assets to assist.”

The comms went quiet and the only noise was the chaos of explosions and sliding cars, and they were finally catching up to them when they were rammed by another jeep, Atlas soldiers shooting at them. They started to spin out and the jeep flipped when they hit another car, the jeep landing on the roof. Mitchell let go of the wheel and could barely make out Gideon screaming “Hold on!” before their jeep slid at an alarming speed and crashed into a jeep ahead of them.

 

Mitchell was one hundred percent sure he’d blacked out, because when he opened his eyes and looked over towards the passenger seat, Gideon wasn’t there. He concluded that the man had gotten out on his own, so he struggled out of his seat and kicked off the buckled car door, rolling out of the car. He grabbed his gun on the way out, coughing. When he looked up, he saw Gideon standing in front of him, spitting blood and wiping at his lip.

“You good?” the British man asked him, and Mitchell just raised his gun in affirmation, trying to stop coughing before he’d speak. He stood up and brushed himself off briefly, while Gideon reported back to Cormack.

“Cormack, our Pitbull is out of action. Proceeding on foot.” he said, nodding towards Mitchell before he took off running, Mitchell following closely behind until he caught up.

“I was never much for driving, anyway!” he said jokingly to the older man, who chuckled in response.

“That’s why I made you drive.” he said, punching Mitchell in the shoulder, right before Cormack came back onto the comms.

“Atlas vehicles are deploying soldiers! They’re closing in on your position!” the major said, just as Mitchell saw several boost-equipped Atlas soldiers jump onto the two spun out trucks.

“Boosters incoming!” he heard Gideon say in the same moment, and Mitchell crouched down behind a car.

“I can see that!” he said back, quickly aiming and shooting the ones closest to him. He heard Cormack reporting that San Francisco Police Department had personnel on the scene, and made a mental note to check fire carefully. Even though Exo tech was mostly for military uses, some SWAT teams used it too, and he didn’t know what police forces were there.

They quickly advanced, shooting every Atlas soldier in sight, somewhere halfway getting reinforcements of more Sentinel soldiers. Every once in a while he glanced over to where Gideon was, relieved to see the man being okay each time.

After what seemed like forever, they’d taken everyone down and reached the road block he faintly remembered Cormack calling for. About a dozen of Sentinel soldiers stood behind deployed covers, rifles aimed at the two Atlas soldiers forced out of the van that started the entire disaster. The one who came out of the passenger seat was shot the moment his feet touched the ground, and the driver was forced to his knees, facing away from the van.

“We’ve got the driver!” Cormack announced, and Mitchell felt Gideon touching his shoulder.

“Check that van, Mitchell.” he said, and Mitchell simply nodded in response. He carefully went up to the back of the van, slinging his rifle onto his back, and tried to pull the door open. When it didn’t work, he pulled out a metal cutter, moving to cut the van doors apart when they suddenly slam open, one of them hitting Mitchell square in the face, and he falls backwards onto the tarmac. 

Blinking and shaking his head to clear his vision, he watches as a rack of drones shoot out of the back, the dozen drones activating and detaching from it. He heard someone scream “Drones!” and Cormack ordering them to take them out, and the drones went to attach to the support wires of the bridge. He wasn’t really aware of what was happening but he tried to stand up, and somewhere behind him he heard Gideon yell “Look out!” and over the comms Cormack was demanding everyone to fall back. Before Mitchell could get up, though, the drones detonated and cut off the supporting wires to weaken the bridge.

Mitchell tried to get up and run, but before he could get anywhere, the van exploded and sent him flying. He slammed into a car about 40 or 50 feet away, with enough force to break the windshield, and he felt himself roll off the hood of the car onto the ground. He could barely make out the screaming over the comms, and his vision was blurry, but he made out Cormack screaming “It’s giving way!” at the same time as he saw the bridge in front of him collapsing.

The rush of panic and adrenaline when he felt himself start sliding along the tarmac when the bridge collapsed was enough for his mind to clear, and he saw cars, soldiers and other people slide over the edge in front of him. Twisting, he managed to wedge his fingers down into a crack in the tarmac, his legs hanging over the edge, but didn’t have time to breathe out when he saw a police officer sliding towards the edge next to him. Taking a chance, he reached out and managed to grab the man, effectively saving his life.

He helped the police officer get up into safety, himself still hanging in that same crack, and he helplessly watched another Sentinel soldier get hit by a sliding bus and was thrown down into the wreck of the military carrier boat underneath the now destroyed bridge.

Struggling to pull himself up from the edge, managing to sit up on his knees, he saw Gideon jumping and landing next to him, a few feet clear of the edge.

“Mitchell, you alright, mate?” he asked, concern shining in his eyes, and Mitchell nodded in response as Gideon continued, both men looking down to the wreckage.

“Fucking bastards.” the british man spat out, and Mitchell nodded.

“T-truly.” he stuttered, his ribs starting to ache and his head starting to spin again when the rush of adrenaline started to subside. Gideon turned to him again, strapping his gun onto his back and grabbed Mitchells arm.

“Come on, mate, we need to get you off the edge. You look like you’re about to pass out.”

He pulled Mitchell up to stand, and as soon as he was on his feet, the younger man wrapped his arms around Gideon’s shoulders as he lost his balance, his own weight feeling foreign. He felt Gideon grab him by his waist to help steady him.

“Take it easy, Jack, steady.” Gideon mumbled, shifting him so that he had one arm around Mitchell’s back, while holding one of Mitchells arms around his own shoulders.

With Gideon supporting him, they managed to get away from the edge far enough where they’d be out of danger, even if the bridge collapsed even more. Gideon helped him sit down leaned against a car, then sat down next to him.

“I lost sight of you after the van exploded. Did you get caught in the blast?” Gideon asked him, and Mitchell leaned his head back against the car, closing his eyes.

“Nah, more like I got thrown 50 feet back and slammed into a car. Broke the windshield and everything. I’m pretty sure I have a nasty concussion.”

“Yeah, especially with getting hit in the face by a car door. You’ve got a bad bruise there.”

“How the hell can I be so unlucky all the time? I’m cursed, I tell you. Cursed.” Mitchell says, smiling, and Gideon chuckles at him. Then he slowly stands up, supporting himself against the car.

“Come on, we need to help evacuate the rest of the people. It’s dangerous here for them.” he says, offering a hand to Gideon, who takes it and pulls himself up.

“Honestly, if I had a say in the matter, you would be halfway back to base now in a medivac. But I know you wouldn’t let that happen.” Gideon says, reaching up to gently ruffle Mitchells hair. They move to search the cars, but they don’t get very far until Cormacks staticky voice comes on over their comms.

“All Sentinel teams, radio check.”

They briefly look at each other, their faces suddenly serious, and Mitchell nods before he responds to the call first.

“Sentinel Two-Two, radio check. Charlie Lima.” he says, glancing over at Gideon when he responds “Sentinel Two-One, loud and clear. So what the fuck are we supposed to do now?”

“Solid copy. Descend and hold position at the carrier, I’m enroute.” was Cormacks response, and the beep signalled that he’d disconnected from the channel. Mitchell sighed, almost too dramatically to be serious as he started walking towards the edge again.

“Getting real tired of this.” he said, immediately turning his head to Gideon.Gideon saw how the man looked tired and just finished, he wasn’t completely steady on his feet and he thought again about calling for exfil and getting Mitchell out of there. But he swallowed his thoughts and caught up with Mitchell at the edge, looking down.

“It’s a fucking fire pit down there. We’ve got to be careful, find somewhere to hide until Cormack gets here.” he says, looking up at Mitchell, who just nodded in response, immediately back in mission mode.

“Okay. I’ll go down first, find a safe route for you. You’re still hurt. Stay here and cover me.” he said, watching Mitchell nod again. He took a step back, before moving forward and dropping down the first 20 feet drop.

Mitchell silently watched Gideon, every so often looking around. If nothing happened, he’d look back down to where Gideon was struggling his way down through the ruins of the bridge and the carrier.

“Alright, Mitchell, you can come down. It’s safe.” he heard Gideon shout, waving his arms. He nodded and raised his arm before strapping his gun onto his back again, taking a few steps back before running to the edge, jumping. He landed quite roughly onto the first large chunk of concrete, nearly losing his balance at the impact. He quickly steadied himself and kept moving down.

Eventually he got down to where Gideon was, and they both moved down to something that resembled a cave of debris, dimly lit up red from the fires around them. They burrowed into a corner, rifles in hands.

“When do you think all this will be over?” Mitchell mumbled, adjusting his grip on his rifle and looking over at the other man, meeting his gaze when he turned to look back at him. A moment passed before Gideon shrugged.

“I don't know. Probably not until Irons is six feet under.”

Mitchell winced at the words, Will’s face flashing before him. He often caught himself thinking, what would Will think of this, if he was still alive? Would he help fight against his father? Would he side with Atlas?

He didn’t have time to sink deeper into his thought when he saw Gideon get up from where he was crouching to run out and boost jump out of their cave. He faintly heard the sound of a helicopter, but decided to stay where he was.

Gideon eventually came down again, moving back to where Mitchell was crouched down.

“Jesus.” the man grumbled, crouching down beside Mitchell as two others, who he saw to be Cormack and Knox, dropped down and ran over to them.

Mitchell listened to Cormack tell them what to do, and quickly followed the three men when they moved out.

He spent the remainder of the mission in complete focus, doing what was needed and simply following orders. His mind was steadily growing fuzzier and the impending migraine he had expected slowly got worse and had his head pounding. He found it easier to focus wholeheartedly on the objective at hand, it kept his thoughts away from the pain.

When he shot his final round at the Atlas cargo ship, watching the boat explode, he slowly tuned back in when Gideon and Knox spoke, not quite catching what they said.

“Next? Irons just murdered thousands of innocent people on US soil. Next, we hunt him down… And we bury him.” Cormack responded, and Mitchell nodded when the man looked at him before storming out of the command room of the carrier. He watched Gideon pat Knox’s shoulder, before they left the command room too, and Mitchell found himself hurrying along to follow them.

*********************************************

Sentinel reinforcements had cleared out the carrier and the four men got orders to move up onto the bridge for exfil. However, Mitchells brain had decided that nope, that wasn’t gonna happen.

Which was why he suddenly went from being slightly okay, to leaning against the nearest wall, doubled over, vomiting his guts out.

He wasn’t really aware of Gideon appearing at his side when his world was spinning like tea cup ride, but he heard the man talk to him.

“Mitchell? Mitchell, talk to me!” the Brit said, his hand coming to rest between Mitchells shoulder blades.

It took him a few minutes, but as soon as he was sure he could speak without ejecting the remainder of his stomach contents, he straightened up a bit.

“I’m… definitely not g-getting up to the bridge.” he mumbles, voice barely above a whisper. He glanced up to Gideon, seeing the worried expression on the other mans face.

“Yeah, I get you. Oi, get a medivac down here.” Gideon shouted to the other two men as Mitchell moved forward a few metres to sit down, back leaning against the wall and head resting in his hands. He felt mildly pathetic, being a grown ass man and soldier being fully knocked out by a concussion. He pathetically looked up when Gideon kneeled down in front of him.

“How are you feeling, mate?” the older man said, softly sweeping strands of hair off Mitchell’s sweaty forehead, and Mitchell actually chuckled.

“I’m feeling- like I’m either g-gonna throw up again. Or pass out. Or b-both.” he mumbled again, leaning his forehead onto his hands again with a groan. “Passing out would probably be n-nice right now.” he continued, as Gideon continued running his hand through Mitchells hair.

“Yeah, well, you can pass out later. Let me check you for wounds, okay. I saw you took a few bullets earlier.”

Without waiting for approval, Gideon started to look him over. Mitchell didn’t move a single muscle, afraid it would make him throw up again, until Gideon touched his right upper arm, sending a jolt of pain through his arm, making him hiss in pain.

“Yup, that’s what I thought. You’ve got a bullet graze wound, nothing too serious. Did you seriously not feel that until now?” Gideon asked him, to which Mitchell responded with a groan.

“No. I wouldn’t f-feel my hand twitching either if I wasn’t leaning my head o-on it.” he said, raising his left, obviously twitching hand for Gideon to see, while the medivac chopper Gideon had requested landed on one of the helipads on the carrier.

“Shit, then it’s bad. Come on, the medivac’s here. Let’s get you back home.”

Getting Mitchell into the helicopter proved to be a challenge. The staircase up to the helipad had been blown up, presumably by a grenade, and Mitchell had been reduced into leaning heavily on Gideon for support, floating in and out of consciousness and could barely walk on his own by the time they reached the helipad. It had ended with Gideon having to get Mitchell onto his shoulders and boost jumping up, something that caused the younger man to groan weakly in pain.

After some serious bargaining (and some blackmailing, too), Gideon convinced the medical personnel to let him on the chopper with the now unconscious Mitchell, who’d been strapped onto a stretcher and gotten an oxygen mask secured over his nose and mouth. When they finally lifted off, he sat down on the helicopter floor beside the stretcher, leaning against it with a sigh.

“Why the fuck do you have to get hurt all the time, kid?”


	11. Number Eleven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heart to heart.

SENTINEL HQ  
Medical bay  
Later that day

 

Waking up to stare into a bright white ceiling cemented Mitchells current outlook on life of “I hate everything”. His head was pounding and he felt dizzy, but other than that, he felt kind of okay. For once, his body wasn’t hurting.

Slowly sitting up, he found that he was still wearing his combat clothes, but his exo and all of his equipment had been stripped off. His boots was placed neatly beside his bed and he quickly made the decision that nope, he’s sick of hospitals and he was getting out of there.

When he’d gotten his boots on, he got up from the bed and slowly made his way out of the hospital room.

It took him a while, but he eventually left medical with a bottle of painkillers and an order to at least rest overnight, which fit him perfectly since they wouldn't have to move out for at least 24 hours, or so he’d been told by the lady at the desk in medical. So in his hazy mind he made the decision to go back to his room and try to sleep for another while. He still felt nauseous and he didn't want to risk anything.

He reached his quarters, and after locking the door behind himself, kicking his boots off and collapsing onto his bed, he immediately fell asleep.

He woke up when he heard someone knock on his door, the clock stating that it was 5.30 pm, and after slowly and painstakinly forcing himself up off of his bed without falling over, he started walking towards the door.

“Hold up, I’m coming.” he says just loud enough to be heard, unlocking the door and when he expected to see either Cormack or Gideon, he was somewhat pleasantly surprised when he saw Ilona behind it. The woman smiled at him, a slight tint of concern shining through.

“Oh, hi, Ilona. I wasn’t expecting you.” Mitchell mumbles while rubbing at his eye, stepping aside to let Ilona come inside. The russian woman stepped over the threshold, handing a tray with some toast and a cup of tea to Mitchell.

“Gideon asked me to bring you some food. He’s tied up in briefing right now.” she said, taking a seat by his desk, while Mitchell sat back down on his bed after closing his door again. He set the tray on his bedside table, feeling a bit too nauseous to eat at that very moment.

“Thanks, Ilona. Did they give you the details?” he says, carding his prosthetic hand through his hair, sweeping it away from his forehead. It was greasy and disgusting from dried sweat and blood splatter, and he really needed a shower.

“Yeah, I know most of it. We’re kind of up shit creek.” the woman said, huffing. “Seriously. We all want this to be over, though I am happy to have gotten to sit out on the last mission. I understood we had a lot of casualties.” she said, trailing off when Mitchell winced. “Sorry.”

“No, no, it’s alright. It happens.” he says, scratching the back of his neck. He silently picked up the cup of tea, gently blowing on it to cool it down.

“Alright, let’s not talk about that. I want to ask you about something.” Ilona said, taking the soft hum from Mitchell as a ‘go ahead’ to keep talking. She watched the American sip at the tea for a moment, before deciding to drop the bomb.

“How is it between you and Gideon, hm?” she said, setting her intertwined hands in her lap, looking Mitchell straight in the eye as he tried to not choke on his mouthful of tea, instead swallowing it and looking to Ilona, his expression puzzled.

“Ilona, why are you asking this now? Surely there must be something more important.” he says, trying to keep his voice smooth. He knew Ilona knew. He did. He just wanted her to pretend she didn’t.

“Stop avoiding it, Mitchell.” she said, giving him that look that resembled a look a disappointed mother would give to her disobedient child. “I know something’s happened. It’s not like I’m gonna snitch on you.” When Mitchell still only looked away, and didn’t answer her, she sighed and put her hand on his knee.

“Mitchell, I’m genuinely worried. I know everything is stressful right now, but please, Gideon is stressed out of his mind and barely talks to anyone, and you’ve been taking so much shit the last week. We’re all equals here, you can talk.”

Mitchell briefly looked up at her. Her words were so out of character that he almost laughed, but the seriously worried glint in her eyes told him that she was being sincere. He blinked a couple of times before looking down at his teacup again.

He drew a deep breath, biting at his lower lip. He knew that Ilona spoke the truth. He didn’t know if he was ready to speak about it, but before he knew it, his subconcious had decided for him.

“I’m terrified,” he blurted out before he could stop it. “I’m terrified, because I keep getting hurt and there’s no telling if I’m going to die tomorrow. He might die tomorrow. I don’t want to get attached, because it’ll only hurt us both in the end. There’s no room for love on a battlefield.” He had suddenly said everything that was on his mind, thoughts that had been terrorizing him every day from when the day they nearly kissed in the hospital room after his surgery. He’d barely realized these thoughts himself, he’d always been pushing them away. He’d had other things on his mind.

He set down the teacup on his tray, bringing his hand through his hair again, and let out a deep sigh. He didn’t meet Ilona’s gaze, and the silence was driving him mad. He wasn’t going to say anything. He had never had a very strong sense of pride, but now, it stopped him from confessing further what he felt. He felt out of character from himself, he didn’t understand why he’d suddenly confessed all those things.

After what felt like an eternity, Ilona finally spoke.

“It’s okay, Mitchell. Thanks for trusting me with this information. We’ll work this out.” she said, voice still uncharacteristically soft, and he hated it. He wasn’t fragile. He’d dealt with emotional hardships before.

“Yeah, we will. But don’t go soft on me, please. I’ll be fine.” he mumbles, picking his teacup up again. He looked over to Ilona with a playful smile, and Ilona scoffed at him.

“I’ll still kick your ass on the ranges.”

“Didn’t expect anything less.”

******************************

Eventually Ilona had left him alone (not before punching him in the shoulder) for him to eat in peace. The talk they’d had had been oddly refreshing and he actually found it had calmed him down significantly. He’d been so worked up the last week and never really relaxed.

He had finished the tea and toast Ilona had brought him, taken a shower, and then he’d gone back to his bed. The hot shower had helped him relax further, and as the clock showed that it was just after 8 pm. He still felt dizzy and tired, so he thought he’d go back to bed, get some more rest. Dressing in a pair of sweatpants and a T-shirt, he sat down on the edge of his bed, when he heard a knock on the door.

“Door’s open.” he absentmindedly called, grabbing his comb from the night stand to comb his still moist hair away from his face. He glanced up at the now opened door to see Gideon step over his threshold.

“Hey, mate.” the captain said, sounding just as exhausted as he looked. Mitchell immediately felt his heart constrict and he only wanted to hug the man.

“Hey, are you alright?” Mitchell said softly, standing up to walk over to the other man. He ignored the spinning sensation as he stood up and made an effort to walk straight, as to not worry the other man. He watched Gideon huff.

“You shouldn’t be the one asking me that.” the brit said, reaching out to steady Mitchell when he came within reach. “Sorry I couldn’t come any sooner, got wrapped up.”

“It’s alright, Ilona told me.” Mitchell mumbled, smiling softly when Gideon leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, then another to a temple. “Hmm, what are you doing?” he mumbled and chuckled when he felt the scrape of Gideons stubble against his skin.

“You’ll see.” he said, tone mischevious, and it left Mitchell confused for a second, before he was suddenly hoisted over Gideon’s shoulder, quick, but surprisingly gentle, mindful of his concussion. 

“H-Hey! Put me down!” He squeezed out while laughing, half-heartedly smacking Gideon on the back. The British man set him down onto the bed while chuckling, moving to tickle Mitchells sides, resulting in the younger man eventually howling with laughter. He’d always been super ticklish along his sides, but most didn’t know it thanks to his exceptional composure. But somehow, the way Gideons fingers danced along his ribs made that composure crumble like shortbread, and soon he was gasping for air in between bouts of laughter and pleas for Gideon to stop.

“Gideon - p-pleaseeeaaahaha- st-stooo-op!” he shouted between laughs, swatting at the other man whenever he had the chance. He heard Gideon laugh and he tried to reach to try and tickle the other man back, but before he’d even gotten halfway his hands were pinned above his head, and he looked up to see Gideon smirking down at him.

He was still for a moment, just looking up at the other man, before swiftly hooking his legs around Gideon’s waist and flipping them over. But they had been closer to the edge of the bed than he’d anticipated, and the roll resulted in them falling off the bed, Gideons back hitting the floor and Mitchell ending up on top of the other mans chest.

They laid still for a moment, Gideon groaning softly in pain, before Mitchell propped himself up enough to be able to look at the other man. Locking eyes, they softly giggled at each other, noone making a move to get off the floor.

“And to think we’re supposed to be grown men.” Mitchell mumbled, running his finger along one of Gideons eyebrows. He took his time, carefully mapping out Gideons features, as he quietly waited for a response.

“Indeed.” the other man responded, voice softer than usual, the normal rough edge smoothed out. He brought up a hand to cup the side of Mitchells face, moving to card his fingers through the dark hair. “You know, when all this has blown over, I’ll take you out.”

“Can I take your word for that, old man?” the younger man said, teasingly poking Gideon on the forehead. Gideon gave him a troubled smile in return.

“As long as we both survive when we move out tomorrow.”

Mitchells face dropped quickly, and he rolled off Gideon to sit beside him. The mood was dead and Mitchell suddenly felt as terrified as he was before.

“So maybe we should just accept that the date probably won’t happen. Because with my luck, I’m probably coming back in a casket.” he mumbled, scratching through his hair with a sigh. “I guess if we manage to take Irons down, my death wouldn’t be much of a sacrifice. I was supposed to be dead back in Korea anyway.”

Gideon didn’t say anything for a long while, simply watching the other man. He’d never known that Mitchell felt that way. That he’d expected to be dead by now. He felt his heart sink into his stomach when seeing the sad look in the younger man’s eyes. He wouldn’t have it.

He slowly sat up, as if trying to not startle a deer, and wrapped his arm around Mitchells shoulders.

“Jack, listen to me. You’ll survive. I’ll make sure you get through this, I won’t accept anything else. You’re one of the best soldiers I’ve ever had the honor to have under my command, and one of the best men I’ve ever known, on a personal plane. You don’t have to worry.” 

Mitchell turned his head to look at him, eyes soft and miserable. He stayed silent for a moment, before he leaned in to place a soft kiss on Gideons lips, pulling away just as fast.

“Thanks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me, this took a long ass ime, I'm so sorry. Due to server errors and stress, I couldn't upload during the entire summer and writing came hard, but I'm back in the match!!
> 
> Sorry if it felt OOC, I didn't get a good flow while writing.
> 
> Anyhow, thanks for reading!
> 
> Peace <3


	12. Number 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was the beginning of the end.
> 
> For one of us.

SOMEWHERE OVER THE MIDDLE EAST  
Sentinel Aircraft  
Around noon

The next morning had brought a cloud over the HQ. Barely anyone spoke to each other and the tension was so thick you could almost cut it with a knife. Everyone knew what was coming that day, and everyone tried their best to be ready for it.  
Gideon had left after Mitchell had fallen asleep, only for the fact that the younger man was a light sleeper. He needed all the rest he could possibly get. They had a hard mission ahead of them.

Gideon himself, hadn’t slept too much at all. He’d nodded off for maybe an hour before dawn, but he’d been up going over every possible way the mission could go wrong. He’d never been nervous like this for a mission before. But then again, usually his missions didn’t have this much on the line. Mitchell had woken up and came to his room a few minutes after dawn, and they sat in silence, leaning on each other, until the mess hall would open.

“This is it.” Mitchell mumbled, reaching to intertwine Gideon’s fingers with his own, giving the older man’s hand a squeeze that was quickly reciprocated. Gideon could practically feel the tension, the fear and the unerring determination the other man felt, as if it was physically radiating off from Mitchell, like radiation from a black hole.

“...Yeah. This is it.” the Brit responded, knowing that any reassuring words he could’ve said would have been wasted on Mitchell as he was right now. He’d seen this all before - the first days in Atlas had been hard on the young American, it was an all new system from how he’d lived in the Marines, he’d come to them as a young soldier with a surprising amount of experience for only having been a soldier for 6 months with one real deployment. He’d come to them with shattered pride and a destroyed arm, and he’d grown to be the fantastic and strong man Gideon knew now. He knew that Mitchell could handle it - he had before. He could only pray and hope that the younger man would be ready enough for the mission.

 

And so they found themselves in separate pods, released from the aircrafts, finally arriving over New Baghdad. They’d already begun their descent, way too steep and sudden, and Mitchell heard Gideon’s voice ring over the comms “Coming in hot!” as their pods descended toward the concrete of the street below them.

“Gonna be a rough landing!” Knox said over the comms, sounding calm and collected as ever. Mitchell kind of envied his self control.

“Reverse thrusters!” Gideon shouted, sounding mildly distressed as a contrast, and as Mitchell complied he felt how the pod slowed down slightly, rather than hearing the whirring from the machinery.

Mitchell threw a quick glance to Gideon’s pod as they started scraping against the concrete, knocking sun chairs and tables over, and he saw the other man throw himself out of his pod. He quickly mirrored the action, getting flung out of the aircraft and hitting the concrete and rolling a few times, before he got up onto his knees, coughing from the smoke and the dust. He saw Gideon and Knox in the corner of his eye, in similar positions.

“You good?” he shouts over the noise, getting a nod from Knox, a thumbs up from Gideon. They all stood up and grabbed their rifles from their backs, starting to move toward what looked like a bombarded hotel.

“Wild ride in. Let’s meet up with Sergeant Davis.” Gideon ordered, and Ilona suddenly made herself known over their comms as they saw her by the rendezvous point. Mitchell carefully scanned the environment for any hostiles as he moved forward, while Ilona stated the situation.

“We’re trying to advance, but those MD turrets are tearing up our air support!” she yells, gunshots and choppers heard through the channel, and Mitchell scrunched up his nose. This would be a tricky mission, he felt it in his bones.

“Copy all. We’ll go high and see if we can get behind enemy lines.” Gideon responds, joining in by Mitchell’s side in taking out tangos as they advanced, when Ilona’s voice once again came over the comms, interrupting whatever thoughts ran through their heads.

“There’s the target building, dead ahead!” she shouted, pointing toward a large apartment complex style building, the MD turrets well visible from where they were.

Gideon was first to respond with “Davis, we’re advancing on the target building now!” as they left the hotel and split up. Mitchell grappled onto a raised walkway, quickly shooting the two tangos ahead of him as he got up onto it.

Mitchell didn’t really catch exactly what was being said over the comms, he just acted on instinct as he moved forward through the streets, clearing out whatever hostile he spotted. At one point he heard Gideon yell “Get down!” and he was suddenly tackled to the ground as a sniper shot rang through the air above him. He looked up at the other man, watched him fire in the direction of the sniper, effectively taking the person out.

“Thanks.” he gasped, grabbing his rifle again and sitting up with his back against the closest piece of cover. “We make a good team.”

“You need someone to watch your back, you twat. Get back in there, we’re almost there.” Gideon muttered, but there was no malice in his voice. They moved together in frightening sync, taking out whoever dared challenge them.

“Davis, we’re in position at the target building. Moving to eliminate turrets.” Gideon reported as they took cover around a corner. They got an affirmative response that they were free to engage, and they exchanged a look.

“Mitchell, think you can handle it?” Gideon says, looking serious and, dare he say it, worried. Mitchell responds with a scoff, bumping his shoulder against Gideons.

“What do you think of me, old man?” he says, giving no time for Gideon to react before he’s off. He quickly scans the situation, noting where the closest MD turret was, trying to figure out a strategy. He made his way over, knowing Gideon was covering him as he saw tangos he hadn’t engaged fall, and eventually, he reached his destination.

He grappled onto the ledge above the balcony the turret was deployed on, letting go of the ledge when he was right above the three ATLAS soldiers standing guard. Using the boosters on his exo, he slammed down on one, using his rifle two take out the other two.

The turret operator hadn’t noticed him yet, in some miraculous way. That made his job much easier as he boost jumped up onto it, and with his hands, supported by the assault exo he was wearing, he ripped off the top of the turret. He quickly grabbed the operator by the neck, and pulled him up out of the turret and throwing him over the ledge of the balcony, quickly taking his place.

“I have taken one of the turrets, I’ll use it to take out the others!” he quickly reported over the comms, delighted when Gideon was the first one to respond.

“Good job, Mitchell. We’re counting on you.”

Taking the other three of the turrets out was quick work - the shots were more than enough to utterly destroy the machines. He was just on his way to get out of the turret and onto the streets when another voice comes over the comms.

“We need support at ground level! We are getting shredded by AST units! They’re coming from all directions!” yelled a soldier Mitchell hadn’t met before. He figured that the newest recruits were being pulled into this - he felt bad for them.

“We’ve got several AST units joining the ATLAS soldiers.” Knox responded, to which Gideon immediately responded to as well. 

“Aye, let’s sort these bastards, then get to Irons.”

Mitchell hung back as soldiers started engaging the mechs, and he grabbed Gideon by the arm before he could run off as well.

“The MD turret is still functional. I can get back to it and provide support from there.” He shouted over the noise, Gideon nodding and bumping their shoulders together in response.

“Good call. We believe in you, Mitchell, let’s take those bastards down!”

Mitchell watch for a second as Gideon darted off, before he dashed in the opposite direction. Making his way back to the turret proved more difficult than he’d anticipated, ATLAS soldiers swarming to take back their remaining assets. He took a couple of shots to the soft parts of his armour, but managed to somehow overpower the small group of soldiers. He heard Ilona yell over the comms (“Move up and take care of those mechs!”) but he had other things to focus on.

He slid back into the turret, quickly recentering his aim, and once he had announced what he was trying to do, the AST’s were next on his list. Together with the soldiers on the ground, they made quick work of the mechs.

That’s where the next proble made itself known. The last AST was well outside the reach of the turret - meaning Mitchell would have to get down onto the streets and rendezvous with his squad, which had moved up a lot further.

He had two options here - either he could take it slow and methodically, moving from cover to cover, or he could just run for it. 

He eventually settled for a middle ground - he was moving fast, constantly with cover around to dive behind, picking off any ATLAS stragglers along the way.

“Gideon, I’m moving up behind you. Give me a sitrep, over?” he said into his comms, worried about not being able to spot Gideon’s signature on his HUD. His worries were wiped out when Gideon marked himself for Mitchell to see.

“We’re doing okay, but we’re struggling with the last AST. A few KIA’s, but me, Ilona, Knox and Davis are still here. I’ll cover your path, hurry up.” the british man answered him, and Mitchell picked up his pace until he slid up beside Gideon with his back to the car they were taking cover by.

Trying to assess the situation, Mitchell leaned out from his spot behind cover. He didn’t have a lot of time before bullets started whizzing past his head and he had to duck back in, but it was enough.

“What did you get?” Ilona asked him, and he told her what he’d seen; 20 or so foot soldiers, the AST on a balcony 15 metres out, a weapon crate 25 metres away. Ilona nodded in affirmation.

“Yeah, that’s what we got too. Okay, me, Gideon and Mitchell will go for the AST. Knox, Davis, lay down cover fire and call in additional air support on our location.” she ordered, everyone nodding in affirmation. On a silent count of three, the three ex-ATLAS soldiers dash out from behind cover, grappling onto the balcony overhead.

Mitchell ended up closest to the mech, and they appeared to have caught it by surprise. It had all its weapons down, and it gave Mitchell the precious few seconds it took to toss an EMP grenade in it’s direction, disabling it for a brief amount of time, but they couldn’t get any good shots in before getting intercepted by a few foot soldiers coming in behind the mech operator. Mitchell grabbed cover behind a crate, looking back to Ilona and Gideon.

The conversation between them was entirely silent, consisting of eye movements and hand signs, and in a flash, the three soldiers dashed out from their cover. Ilona and Gideon took out the foot soldiers, while Mitchell threw yet another EMP grenade, this time managing to unload an entire clip into the mech suit. When Gideon and Ilona joined in, the AST was quick work.

“Nice work.” Mitchell panted, but he didn’t have much time to breathe before the next threat came into view. Ilona was first to call it out.

“ATLAS heavy armor dead ahead!” 

“Grab cover! Those tanks will tear us apart in the open!” Gideon yelled in response, as he and Mitchell stacked up by a corner, Ilona taking cover by an ammo crate.

“Do we have any way of disabling it?” Mitchell asked, and Gideon gave him a shrug as response. But then, right on cud, it was as if a god of convenience descended upon them.

“Gideon, give me cover fire! Weapon cache dead ahead!” Knox shouted, and Mitchell could see Knox accross the street below them, ready to run for it.

“Mitchell, you're with Knox. Grab those stingers while we cover you. Go, go, go!” Gideon ordered, clapping him on the shoulder before Mitchell moved to a cover closer to the edge of the balcony, avoiding the barrate of bullets zooming past.

“Mitchell, I’m covering you! Grab that stinger!” Ilona yelled, marking the two launchers down by the ammo crate he’d seen. He nodded, and the same moment that Gideon and Ilona opened fire, he darted out from his new cover and went right over the edge of the balcony. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Knox join him to grab one of them.

But Before they had time to grab the launchers, Knox called out.

“Drone swarm!”

Mitchell felt himself tense up when hundreds of small, round drones flew overhead, and he was ready to dive for nearest piece of cover, but the drones didn’t fire. They looked like nothing he’d ever seen from ATLAS before.

“What the hell are they doing?” he heard Knox ask, and Mitchell was hit by a sinking feeling as it dawned on him, but it was too late.

As the drones started exploding, releasing a sickly greenish brown gas, Mitchell immediately turned and pulled Knox down onto the concrete with him, but he knew it was useless.

He was waiting for the effects to hit him for a brief second, before he heard Knox cough and vomit beside him. He got up onto his knees and moved to Knox’ side, hearing the man stutter and groan.

“G-God damn, he did it- he f-fucking did it…!” 

Mitchell rolled the collapsing man over onto his back, and the sight was nearly enough to make him throw up onthe spot. Knox’ former caramel skin had turned a sickly green colour with strained veins contrasting with purple, his eyes were bloodshot - no, they were bleeding, there was blood seeping from every orifice - and he was cramping up under Mitchells hand on his chest.

Gideon and Ilona skidded up next to them.

“What’s happening?” Ilona shouted, the first time Mitchell had ever heard her frightened.

“Knox is down! I need immediate medivac on my location!” Gideon yelled over the comms, one hand on Knox’ neck, his head turning to see the few other Sentinel soldiers fall one by one. He was about to continue his support call when Knox suddenly grabbed Mitchell by the front of his armour, pulling him down closer.

 

“N-No! It’s Manticore. We-we’ve got to pull back - get everyone OUT!” he yelled, one last push, before the man’s eyes became unfocused and he slumped down to the ground.

They were quiet for a second, all three in disbelief, before they gathered themselves.

“Why aren’t we affected?” Ilona asked, her tone still distressed as she looked between Gideon and Mitchell.

“Irons engineered it to be harmless against his own troops. The three of us must have been inoculated.” Gideon said, his face set in stone. Mitchell opened his mouth to say something, but had barely made a sound when a bullet whizzed past his left ear.

They all ducked away, and he heard Gideon yell for them to return fire. Before he had gotten his rifle out, Gideon had gotten shot in the shoulder, and he saw an AST move up behind his comrades. He didn't have time to react before they all were blown back, and as his head hit the concrete, the world went black.

 

_“Citizens of New Baghdad, hold strong. Victory is within our grasp.”_

Mitchell forced his eyes to open during a brief moment of lucidity. His vision was hazy, but he could make out the shapes of what looked like ATLAS soldiers, rounding up damages.

_"Look around you, and you will see our enemies fall one by one.”_

Turning his head, he saw them drag someone accross the concrete. Ilona.

_“Each and every one of you can be agents of change.”_

His vision stabilised and he saw Irons face on a screen, right on the side of a sky scraper. He wanted to throw up.

_“Yes, we will suffer losses. We will suffer setbacks. But make no mistake, we will win.”_

Turning his head the other way, he saw a truck with prisoners. He realized he’d be on that truck. Where was Gideon…?

_"The security you desire, the security you deserve, is within our grasp.”_

He’d never heard bigger lies in his life. He wanted to scoff and flip him off, but he couldn't move, could barely feel his limbs.

_“But it can only be claimed if you are willing to fight for it.”_

An ATLAS soldier grabbed him. He closed his eyes.

_"Fight for it.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ricky? Updating his fanfiction?
> 
> It's more likely than you think.
> 
> (Free Mitchell suffering now!)
> 
> I love you guys, you know that? Even if no one lives in this fandom anymore, I will finish this fic.
> 
> Peace <3


End file.
